Snakelike Evil
by DreamsofPurpleRoses
Summary: Voldemort is going to new lengths to get to Harry. Voldemort can't get into Hogwarts, but what if he's not Voldemort? What if, instead, he's Draco Malfoy! Read and review!
1. Plan

Lord Voldemort tapped the arm of him throne impatiently. Draco was late. Nobody kept Lord Voldemort waiting. And if Draco made him miss his chance Voldemort swore he would make the boy pay. He placed the tips of his fingers together as he waited impatiently, going over the plan.

It was perfect.

It would be difficult, yes, but worth it. And it would also take a lot of patience; something the Dark Lord was rather short of at the moment. He would have be clever. It would be difficult.

But then Voldemort reminded himself of the rewards that would come from this plan being successful. Harry Potter...Voldemort shivered in anticipation. He would have the boy...be free to torture him for as long as he liked. He smiled at the thought.

With just a little patience the boy would be his...

Voldemort was pulled from his thoughts by a knocking on the door. He quickly wiped the smile off his face and hissed, "Enter," The hissing wasn't necessary, but it sure did help in scaring his Death Eaters.

The huge doors opened slowly and Draco Malfoy walked in. He walked forward and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, bowing as he backed away.

Voldemort could see the fear radiating from the boy. 'He should be scared' Voldemort thought. He actually felt a tiny bit of pity for the boy who had no idea what was coming. But then the image of Harry Potter screaming and writhing on the floor in pain entered his mind, and all thoughts of pity were gone from his mind.

It wouldn't do to mess up the whole plan feeling sorry for some stupid boy.

Draco was swaying nervously from foot to foot. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, not wanting to get on the Dark Lord's bad side by saying the wrong thing.

This did not go unnoticed by Voldemort. "Yes, Draco?"

Draco was shaking and managed to mumble, "Nothing..."

Voldemort sat forward on his throne, and Draco took a few steps back. "What was that, Draco?" He whispered, but the words echoed around the whole room.

Draco struggled to stop him self from shivering and stood up tall. "It's just that...I'm going to be late...to the train." He shut his eyes tightly as if he thought he was going to be punished.

Voldemort laughed. "I am aware of this Draco. You will not miss the train. Now, come here."

Draco slowly opened his eyes, and looked up at the Dark Lord, worry etched all over his face. "My L-lord?"

"I believe I gave you an order, Draco. Here, Now." Voldemort smiled as Draco clumsily stumbled towards the throne where his master was sitting. He kneeled down in front of Voldemort, making sure to show proper respect.

"Voldemort stood and walked over to the kneeling boy. He pulled a vial full of blue potion from a pocket in his robes. "Look at me." Draco lifted his head and saw the vial being held out to him. He stared at it intently, trying to identify the liquid and wondering what he was expected to do with it.

"Drink," Voldemort hissed. He saw Draco's eyes widen and he laughed inwardly. The boy's eyes shot from the vial to his master as if hoping the whole thing was a joke. Even though he knew the Dark Lord didn't joke around.

Voldemort sighed. He didn't have time for this. "Drink it now or I will force you to."

Draco gulped. "What is i-it, My Lord?"

"Are you questioning me, Draco?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I would never..." He was cut off by a glare from Voldemort. Draco took the vial with a shaking hand and uncorked it. It smelled odd...like blankets and softness. Draco downed the whole thing in one gulp, not wanting to annoy the Dark Lord anymore. It tasted like air. Suddenly, he fell. His brain became clouded. He felt so tired and confused. His limbs had stopped working.

Voldemort grinned as Draco's eyes began to droop and finally closed. He wouldn't be waking up for a very long time. Step one of the plan was complete.

Voldemort vanished. Then Draco stood up. Only it wasn't Draco. Red eyes shined from where Draco's cool gray ones normally were. And when he laughed Draco's voice didn't come out. It was Voldemort's.

He looked down at himself, stretching his fingers. He had possessed Draco without any trouble. That had also been part of the plan. Draco was in what could be called a coma while the Dark Lord inhabited his body. This was essential so Draco couldn't fight back and ruin everything.

Posing as Draco was also important. It was the only way he would be able to get close to Harry.

Of course possessing a Gryffindor would have made the plan simpler. But there was no way he, Lord Voldemort, was going to be a Gryffindor. Just as there was no way he was going to be spending his time with other Gryffindors except one in particular.

What he would have to accomplish is getting Harry Potter to trust Draco Malfoy. A near impossible feat, he knew. The Malfoy boy was constantly ranting about 'Potter this, and Potter that'. And from the trips to Harry's mind he also knew that Potter felt the same.

There was a knock and the door opened. Narcissa Malfoy poked her head in and frowned at Voldemort. "What are you doing here, Draco? You're going to miss the train! Come on!" She held the door open, tapping her foot impatiently.

Voldemort had to stop himself from hexing her right then and there. Narcissa and Lucius were not in on the plan. They would mess up everything if they knew. Only a select few Death Eaters were aware of the plan. Only those he could fully trust.

Voldemort forced his eyes to change to Draco's and his voice to change also. Then he walked towards Narcissa and out the door, heading towards Draco's room. He called over his shoulder, "I just have to get my things." It was rather odd to hear Draco's voice when he was talking. As was being shorter than normal. But he realized he would have to get used to it if the plan was going to be successful. If he was finally going to get his hands on Harry Potter...

Yes, he smirked, having Harry Potter would make the all the trouble worthwhile...


	2. Taking it in

Voldemort managed to wave Narcissa off, insisting that he would be be fully ready to leave in ten minutes tops. What he wanted to say was that he'd take as long as he liked, but he knew that would only get him in trouble with one of his own Death Eaters.

Oh, the irony.

Draco's room was surprisingly liveable. Voldemort had never been in it before, but knew where it was. He knew where every room in the Malfoy Manor was, as he was the Dark Lord and there would be no secrets from him. But had never been in Draco's room. He had never had a reason. He was pleased to see that the boy knew how to be a Slytherin.

The walls were a deep green and seemed to clash and at the same time match the greyish black carpet. Draco's bed was a giant four poster craved from a dark wood and draped in green sheets. Slytherin banners covered the walls and Draco stared moodily out of photos in silver, snake entwined frames that were placed here and there throughout the room. A slightly open door showed a walk-in closet filled with expensive clothing that was soft to the touch.

The Malfoy's were obviously no strangers to money.

Voldemort found Draco's trunk at the foot of his bed, open, with the contents thrown in roughly inside. He was apparently rushing to get ready when Voldemort had called him.

With a wave of his wand the contents became neatly stacked and orderly. This reminded Voldemort of another problem he would face.

Draco wasn't supposed to know the amount of magic Voldemort knew. Therefore Voldemort would have check every spell he did to make sure it wasn't too advanced. But he had done that all throughout his years at Hogwarts. It would be a small drawback. A minor inconvenience.

What it meant was that he wouldn't be able to Avada Kadavra everyone who got on his nerves.

Draco's wand lay on the dresser beside his bed. He hadn't even brought his wand when he had been summoned. "Stupid boy," Voldemort muttered to himself. "Are all my Death Eaters like this?"

He took Draco's wand and examined it. Elm, he guessed. 10 ½ inches. It would have to do. He couldn't walk around Hogwarts with Voldemort's wand when he was Draco Malfoy.

Again Voldemort hesitated. Was the plan worth giving up his wand? He hadn't let it out of his sight ever since he'd been reborn. He didn't want to lose it. He had gone far to long without it. His wand was like a friend to him.

He stared at it longingly before placing it gently in Draco's trunk along with a couple of potions and other things the Dark Lord would need. Then he slowly closed the trunk till his wand was out of sight.

Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought.

"Draco! What's taking you so long?" There was a banging on the door.

"I'll be out in a minute!" He called. He hated having to listen to his Death Eaters. It was infuriating. He wanted them to show him respect, fear him. But that was difficult when he now looked like a 16 year old.

He walked into the bathroom that was attached to Draco's room. It turned out to be just as lavish as the bedroom was. Not to mention the fact that it was huge. There were tons of mirrors and of the sinks, there were five, all in a row. This room was also made to be very Slytherin like.

The faucets were shaped like snakes, the tiles on the floor were a dark black, and a huge bathtub took up a hole wall, looking more like a small pool. For all their faults, the Malfoy's did know how to decorate. As he was leaving he caught his reflection in one of the mirrors. He paused, taking it in.

Draco was a whole lot shorter than Voldemort. He ran a hand through the pale hair on his head. It was slicked back, and Voldemort thought it looked ridiculous. If he was going to have hair, it was going to look decent. He ruffled his hair till it was sticking up slightly. He also untucked his shirt and messed with his collar a bit.

"There, Draco. That's how you look like a teenager." Voldemort grabbed his face with his thumb and forefinger, examining it, turning it left and right. "My, my Draco. You are pale." Voldemort laughed at his joke.

There was pounding on the door again. "DRACO MALFOY! Get your butt out here or you're going to miss the train and I will _not_ be contacting Albus Dumbledore again because you insist on being late!"

Voldemort flinched inwardly. Who knew moms' could be so bossy. He walked out of the bathroom, grabbed Draco's wand and put it in his pocket. Then, with great effort, he began to drag the trunk to the door. 'Damn, Draco, why did you have to be so bloody weak!' Voldemort thought as he dropped the trunk on his foot and swore out loud.

"What did you just say?" He heard Narcissa call through the door.

"Nothing!" he shouted. When the plan was finished he swore to himself he was going to make Narcissa pay. When asked for a reason he would merely say that she was just unbearably annoying.

Gripping the handle of the trunk in one hand and the silver door knob in the other, Voldemort managed to push open the door and stumble out.

Narcissa was waiting there, looking extremely annoyed, her hands on her hips. "Finally! You take longer than most girl's your age getting ready, Draco."

"Ummm...aren't we going to miss the train?" Voldemort said, not wanting to be told off by one of his minor Death Eaters.

"Oh yes! Come on!." She grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him along after her. Voldemort had never been so humiliated.

"But my trunk!"

"The house elf will get it Draco, like it always does."

Voldemort pulled himself free of Narcissa's grip and walked behind her. Narcissa just rolled her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like, "Teenagers. He just had to become a teenager."

Voldemort followed Narcissa through hallway after hallway, and down staircases. He was reminded strongly of Hogwarts. Finally they reached the dining room, where Lucius was waiting by the fireplace. His hair was slicked back and fell down to his shoulders.

When Voldemort walked up to him he placed his trademark sneer on his face. "What have you done to your hair, Draco?" There was even a sneer in his voice.

"I made it better." Voldemort hissed. Lucius had always annoyed him. If not for headquarters and the fact that Lucius was an exceptional fighter, he would be dead by now.

"It looks ridiculous. And your shirt is hanging out. You are a Malfoy. Appearances are everything." He looked his nose down at Voldemort, who glared right back.

Narcissa gently placed a hand on Lucius's shoulder and guided him away till Voldemort could no longer here their whole conversation. He only caught bits and pieces.

"...he's a teenager..."

"...he's acting ridiculous..."

"...just let it go..."

"...I will not tolerate disobedience!"

"...rebelling. You were a teenager before..."

The conversation went on but Voldemort just tuned them out. When he finally got on the train he wouldn't have to deal with them till Christmas holidays. And if he managed to get Potter to trust him before then, he wouldn't have to deal with them till near the end of the year.

After what seemed like hours Lucius and Narcissa walked back over. Narcissa took his hand without a word and pulled him into the fireplace. Voldemort tried to pull free but Narcissa only tightened her grip and glared at him.

Lucius faced them, arms crossed, a cold look on his face. With a nod Narcissa grabbed a fistful of blue powder from a jar near her foot and called out, "Platform 9 ¾!" And they were off. They were pushed, pulled, and spun around. Voldemort hadn't traveled with Floo powder in quite some time. This trip reminded him why.

When they stopped Voldemort stumbled out, clutching his stomach. 'Dark Lord's don't puke', he reminded himself. His stomach settled and he looked up. They were on Platform 9 ¾. He remembered this place well.

It hadn't changed at all since he had last been there over 50 years ago.

There was still the train, scarlet and shining, billowing smoke. Still the animals, hooting, meowing, croaking and whatnot. Still the first years, looks of glee on their faces, waving wands and making friends, hanging out of the windows of the train. And of course the parents, kissing their children goodbye, making last minute checks and offering words of comfort to those many scared students who were afraid to leave their parents.

"It's been so long..." He whispered, taking it all in. A sudden crack caught his attention, and when he turned he saw a house elf dragging a trunk behind it, sweating. It was a short thing, no taller then his knee. It's eyes were blue and far too large for it's face. It was wearing nothing more than a sack, showing off it's bone thin arms and legs.

"Gimpy has brought...Mister Malfoy's trunk...sir." It smiled hugely and pushed the trunk over to Voldemort's feet, breathing hard.

"You can leave now." Lucius said. He had just apparated and was still staring at Voldemort with major disapproval. 'If only he knew who he was staring at' Voldemort thought to himself.

The house elf smiled widely and with another crack was gone. Probably glad he was leaving.

"Draco, the train is going to leave soon. Better hurry." Narcissa wrapped Voldemort in a bone crashing hug and stepped back. Voldemort stood frozen. He had never been hugged before. It was an odd feeling...

He then became aware of the hand waving in front of his face. "Draco? Are you alright?"

He snapped back into reality and grabbed the handle of his trunk. "Yes, I'm fine. Bye, Nar- I mean mum." He nodded to Lucius. "Father," Lucius nodded back. He wasn't the hugging type.

"We'll see you at Christmas!" Narcissa called as Voldemort walked away.

"Not if I can help it..." he whispered.

He weaved in and out of the throngs of people, ducking to avoid owls, and going out of his way to avoid some kids who were laughing and turning everybody who walked past them hair bright pink. Several first years had already fell victim to this prank.

He managed to lug his trunk over to the side of the train and set it down. He then looked through the crowd, trying to spot Draco's servants, Crabbe and Goyle.

He spotted them, hair bright pink. "Idiots..." he muttered. "Crabbe, Goyle! Come here!"

They turned and stumbled over to him as fast as they could. He pulled out Draco's wand, tapping it on his side impatiently, till they were finally in front of him. He waved the wand and waved it once. Crabbe and Goyle's hair turned back to their original color.

The boy's pulling the prank looked over angrily, obviously mad that their prank had been undone so easily. Voldemort stared at them coldly till they walked away. He turned to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Take my trunk inside for me. Find a compartment and stay there till I come back." He ordered. Both boys nodded their heads dumbly and pulled his trunk into the train. With a wave of his hand, they lumbered away, searching for a compartment.

Voldemort stood still for a second and closed his eyes. He knew he was close. He briefly let himself into Potter's mind. The boy's defenses were terrible. Harry was in a compartment already, sitting with his friends, laughing. He pulled back and opened his eyes.

"I'll just go pay him a visit then, shall I?" Voldemort smiled wickedly and walked down the aisle, drawing ever closer to the boy-who-lived...


	3. Hogwarts Express

Voldemort again let his mind drift into Harry's, trying to locate the exact compartment the boy was in. As he walked, students went out of their way to avoid him, even ducking into other compartments.

Apparently Draco wasn't very popular.

Compartment after compartment was packed full of kids. This fact would work to his advantage.

He stopped in front of the door to one of them. He sensed the boy on the other side, but the blinds were down so he couldn't actually see him.

Voldemort smiled knowing the boy was so very close. But he quickly wiped it away. He didn't want to look too out of character. Hand placed on the door, he took a deep breath and pulled it open.

Immediately the conversation the teens had been having stopped. Ron and Hermione glared at Voldemort, but he payed them no attention. He was completely focused on the boy sitting by the window.

He was pale, green eyes shining from behind glasses perched awkwardly on the end of his nose. Untamed black hair stuck up and hung in his face. And there it was, like a work of art upon his head. The scar...

Harry Potter hadn't changed at all in the months since the incident at the Department of Mysteries.

He hadn't realized he was staring till Harry said, "What do you what, Malfoy?"

His anger flared up. How dare the boy talk to him like that! But Voldemort kept his anger inside. Now was not the place. The time would come and Potter would pay.

He placed a sneer on his face and leaned in the doorway. "What? Am I not welcome here?" he asked innocently.

"You know the answer to that question." Ron replied coldly.

"No," Voldemort smiled. "No I don't believe I do. Please tell me."

"We don't hang out with Death Eaters." Harry replied shortly, still glaring. Even when Ron talked Voldemort never took his eyes off The-boy-who-lived, like if he blinked Harry would disappear and this whole thing would be a dream.

"Or gits." Said Ron. Voldemort chose to ignore that.

"But there are no Death Eaters here." Just the Dark Lord. Voldemort laughed inwardly.

Hermione just laughed."We all know that your father's a Death Eater, Malfoy." So this was the mud-blood Draco was always talking about. The Granger girl. She did have the look of someone who could be extremely annoying.

"But I am not a Death Eater." This was something that had been decided on awhile ago. Draco was not mature enough to be a Death Eater, and his dueling skills were something to be desired.

"Prove it." Harry was staring at him intently. Voldemort briefly wondered if the boy could sense something was wrong.

"Very well," He stopped leaning against the doorway. Then he pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and held it out for them all to see. His pale flesh was free of any Dark Mark. The trio looked surprised. "See? Not a Death Eater"

"How do we know you're not covering it up?" Asked Ron.

Hermione sighed. "You can't cover up a Dark Mark. It's made with a powerful spell. The Dark Lord wants his followers to wear their marks with pride, so he made it so they are unable to hide them."

"Not exactly a smart move." Harry smirked.

"How so, Potter?" Voldemort sneered. He had thought his idea for the marks was brilliant. He saw no flaw in them.

"It's so easy to prove somebody's a Death Eater. All you have to do is see their arm. They can't exactly hide the fact, can they? When they are trying to blend in for a mission or something."

"That's what Polyjuice potion is for." Said Voldemort, crossing his arms as if this won the whole argument.

"But wouldn't it be easier to just make it so the mark could go away?" Harry reasoned.

"No," The Dark Lord huffed in a very childlike manner.

"You don't like being wrong, do you Malfoy?" Harry laughed. Voldemort's hand drifted towards the pocket that held Draco's wand, but stopped himself just in time from Crucioing the boy right then and there.

"Does anybody?"

"No, I suppose not." Harry said thoughtfully.

"Definitely not Hermione." Laughed Ron. Hermione leaned across and punched him in the arm, blushing.

'Interesting,' The dark lord thought. ' It seems as if the mud-blood and the blood traitor fancy each other. That could be useful information.'

"You still haven't answered our first question, Malfoy. Why are you here?" Harry asked, finally noticing that Voldemort had been avoiding it.

"Oh yes, you did ask that." He closed the door behind him and sat down on the bench Hermione was sitting on. She stood up and moved to the other side, sitting down next to Ron.

Voldemort placed his feet up on the bench, stretching out, taking advantage of the fact he could do this and not look completely stupid. "I am sitting." He closed his eyes just barley, to make it seem like they were closed, but at the same time being open enough to still stare at Harry.

"Why?" Ron said.

"Because my legs are tired, Weasley." He laughed as the red head glared at him.

"Come on," Hermione stood up, taking Harry and Ron's hands. "Let's find a different compartment." They all stood up and headed towards the door.

"All the other compartments are full." Voldemort said, looking over his shoulder at them.

"Then we'll share." Hermione retorted. She slid open the door and was about to step out with Harry and Ron when Voldemort played the killer card.

"I'll follow you."

The trio froze in the doorway. Slowly the turned around and stared at him, confused.

"You'd follow us?" Ron said angrily. "Are you a stalker or something?"

"Yes to your first question. No to the other. Maybe you are into that type of thing,Weasley, but not me."

Ron's face turned red and Voldemort knew he was about to yell, but Harry cut him off.

"Did Voldemort put you up to this?"

Hermione and Ron flinched at the name, but Voldemort was mad that Potter still didn't fear him enough yet to not say it. That would have to be changed. "No, Potter. Maybe I just love annoying you." He laughed and it echoed in the uneasy silence.

Harry finally walked over and sat back down by the window, staring Voldemort down.

"But Harry..."

"He's not a Death Eater, Ron. I would know." Ron gaped at him. "And anyway, everywhere else is full."

Ron plopped down on the bench, bewildered. Hermione joined him. They both stared at Harry as if they couldn't believe he would do something so stupid.

Voldemort wasn't surprised though. He knew how stubborn the-boy-who-lived could be. That would have to be fixed of course, if he was going to get Harry to trust him.

There was an uneasy silence in the compartment for awhile, till Ron finally broke it.

"Where are your lackeys Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Taking my trunk to a compartment. They're too stupid to do anything else."

"Aren't you worried somebody could take you down without your bodyguards around?" Ron leaned forward, as though his words should bother him.

"Why should I? Half of the students on this train can hardly cast a simple levitating spell, let alone anything that could harm me." He said this coolly, confidently, and Ron seemed slightly taken back.

"Unless, of course, you tried anything, then I would probably die from laughter."

If possible, Ron's face turned even redder, almost matching his hair. He sat back a crossed his arms, silently fuming.

Harry finally turned his gaze from Voldemort and started up a conversation with Hermione. Ron soon joined in and they all tried to ignore the other occupant of their compartment.

The conversation was about school, Quiddicth, and what they did over the summer. At this last topic Harry became strangely quiet. Voldemort knew why. Potter didn't want to worry his friends about all the dreams he had over the summer. He remembered those...it sometimes took days for Potter to get over them. It had been fun messing with the boy's mind. Quietly making him go insane.

Voldemort could tell that the teens were taking extra precautions not to say certain things in front of Draco. They sometimes suddenly broke off, or changed subjects when they almost slipped up. They didn't trust him, and they showed it.

Eventually, Voldemort noticed Harry wasn't part of the conversation anymore and was staring moodily out the window. He seemed distracted, lost in his own thoughts. Voldemort pondered briefly about slipping into Harry's mind again, but decided against it.

He didn't want to deal with the insane amount of emotions that came with being a teenager.

Only a few minutes later did he realize he was starving. Teenagers were always starving, he remembered.

Luckily the compartment door slid open and there stood the trolley lady. Voldemort swore it was the same woman from over 50 years ago. And she had been old then as well.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" She smiled at them cheerfully.

Voldemort allowed the others to go before him, and watched as Harry pulled out a handful of coins and handed them to her. When he turned back around his hands were full of sweets of all sorts, from Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans to Licorice Wands.

The trolley lady looked towards Voldemort and smiled brightly, "Anything for you, dear?"

"Yes," He stood and walked over. "I'll take two Dark chocolate frogs."

The smiled slipped off her face. "Are you sure, sweetie?"

"Yes," He repeated. "After all, dark chocolate is better for you." He gave her a tight smile.

"Very well, then. Can you pay for them?"

"Of course." He reached into his pockets and pulled out two galleons. They were a bit pricy, but overall worth it.

The trolley lady hesitantly pulled two small dark purple packages from the bottom of the cart. She handed them to him, then shut the door and walked away fast.

Voldemort sat back on the bench and again put his feet up, ripping open the package.

"They're like chocolate frogs, but made out of dark chocolate. And instead of Famous Witches and Wizards cards, they have Dark Witch and Wizard cards." He said, shoving a chocolate frog into his mouth as if to prove a point.

"In other words, candy for Dark Wizards." Hermione explained, scooting away from Ron while he was eating.

"I thought you weren't a Death Eater, Malfoy." Harry smirked.

"Everybody likes chocolate, Potter." Voldemort said. Then he realized what card he had received and smiled. He tossed it to Harry. "That may interest you."

Harry caught it and looked at the picture on the card. His face quickly turned angry. Ron leaned over to see what it was, but Harry ripped it in half and threw it at the floor. The pieces fluttered and landed face up so they could all see.

On the card was a picture of the one and only, Dark Lord Voldemort. In the picture both pieces smiled up at them evilly, making Ron and Hermione shiver.

Voldemort took out Draco's wand and pointed it at the pieces. Suddenly they caught fire and shriveled up till they disappeared all together.

Harry looked over at him confused. So did Ron and Hermione. Voldemort placed the wand back in his pocket and he closed his eyes again and stretched out, biting the frogs head off.

There was a silence."Why'd you do that?" He heard Harry question.

He waved his hand. "I never liked him all that much."

"But your father is a Death Eater. Don't even deny it." Hermione said accusingly.

"My father's choices are his own." Voldemort could tell they were thoroughly confused with his behavior. He was supposed to be Draco Malfoy; rich, snotty git. This new change in attitude was bothering them.

He was changing Draco's actions slightly to help with the plan, while also acting like the Draco they all knew and hated.

The trio seemed stumped by this answer. Ron leaned over and whispered to Hermione, shooting death glares at Voldemort. Harry also stared, not at him but what seemed like through him.

Voldemort opened his eyes and stared back, his eyes smiling as he felt the uneasy feeling coming from the boy. Cool gray meet bright green, waiting for one of them to break. Harry's eyes shook and he finally turned away and resumed looking out the window.

Suddenly the compartment door opened and there stood Neville and Ginny.

They smiled at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but when they turned their gazes to the other seat the smiles fell.

"What's Malfoy doing here?" Ginny questioned, shooting Voldemort a dirty look.

"He won't leave." Harry replied.

"And why is that?" This question was directed at Voldemort.

He sighed. This really was getting annoying. "I'm tired of explaining myself." He waved his hand towards the teens sitting across from him. "Ask one of them."

Ginny's gaze turned towards Harry, in her eyes a question. "He says he's tired. And that he likes annoying us."

"Is that so?" Ginny again glared at Voldemort. "Well, we were just here to tell you that we're almost there so you may want to change into your robes. But if you need some help with removing unwanted pests we can also help with that."

She smiled evilly at him. He got the message. He stood up and walked towards the door. Ginny and Neville moved aside to let him past.

Right before he walked through the door he turned back and smiled at them, but mostly at Harry. "See you soon."

He shut the door behind him and walked away before they could say anything else.

Voldemort smiled to himself as he walked through the aisles toward the Slytherin part of the train. It had been too easy. Possessing Draco, getting on the train, finding the boy.

The plan was going great. The only problem he could immediately see was the fact that he had almost lost it a few times while in the presence of the boy-who-lived. He wanted to torture him so much, make him pay for all the trouble he caused.

But he couldn't. He would have his chance, he knew. But it was so hard to wait when Harry Potter was so close and vulnerable.

He peeked into one of the compartments and saw Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their faces full of sweets.

When he walked in the froze, candy halfway to their faces. "We are almost there. Leave and get ready."

They stood up and were hurrying out the door with their trunks when Voldemort stopped them. "This year I want you two to keep an eye on Potter. I want to know where he is at all times. Don't let him out of your sight. Dark Lord's orders. Understood?"

They nodded dumbly and left, leaving Voldemort to his thoughts. He allowed his eyes to go back to their natural red and pulled on his Slytherin robes. They felt as wonderful as he remembered.

He opened the trunk and pulled out his own wand, holding it lightly in his hand. It felt right, like it belonged, while the other felt odd and wrong. He would torture Potter with his own wand when the time came of course. He would have to carry it around with him just in case that time was sooner then he thought.

He placed both wands in his pocket. He bent over and took out a small vial from the trunk. He watched as its contents slid back and forward. This little potion was going to keep Potter's mind nice and open for the Dark Lord to send dreams and visions and torture the boy mentally.

Voldemort also slid this in his pocket. It would be easy to slip it into Potter's drink.

Finally the train lurched to a stop. Voldemort gathered his belongings, stood, and walked out into the bustling aisles of the Hogwarts Express, ready to go back to school after 50 years.


	4. Poison placed

Voldemort forced his way through the throngs of students, using his height as an advantage to keep an eye out for Potter. Kids of all ages pushed and shoved him, wanting to catch up with friends and snag a carriage together.

Stopping himself from hexing every single one of the brats, he stepped off the train and into an even larger crowd. Voldemort had forgotten what the first night back was like. A frenzy of excitement for those who found Hogwarts their home, and worry for those who had neglected to do their summer homework.

After much shoving and a couple of bad words, Voldemort finally spotted Potter and his friends heading towards a carriage. He walked over to the Thestrals attached to their carriage and petted them affectionately. He had always loved these animals. The animal reared its head, shaking back its mane of dark hair.

He felt a presence beside him. When he turned to find out who it was, he found Potter standing beside him, gazing intently at the skeleton-like horses. Voldemort could see them reflected in the boy's eyes.

"You can see Thestrals?" Harry asked quietly, reaching out a hand and patting the animals flank.

"Yes," Voldemort replied, keeping his answers as plain as possible.

"How?" This question was said so simply, Voldemort wondered the boy asked this kind of thing all the time.

"You don't have a Death Eater for a father and not see a few people die." He lied. Truthfully, the first death he had ever seen was at the orphanage. A little boy there by the name of Thomas Cadswell had gotten sick. The disease had been a lot worse than they had first assumed. Many of the children in the orphanage had paid him visits while he was sick, wishing him well and wanting him to get better.

Tom Riddle had been the last child to visit. Right in front of his eyes Thomas Cadswell took his last breath and died. But Voldemort hadn't felt sad, or scared emotionally like the adults said he would be.

To him Thomas had been dreadfully annoying. He had laughed at how both of their names were Tom and had latched onto the young Tom Riddle like a leech. If he had felt anything with the boy finally died, it was a sense of relief and feelings of detachment, like he didn't really care.

Voldemort turned to look at Harry, surveying the boy. "Why can you see them?"

Potter looked at him seriously"You don't become the-boy-who-lived without seeing a few people die." And with that he climbed up into the carriage and shut the door. A few seconds later the horses took off towards the castle, leaving Voldemort to hop in the next one with Crabbe and Goyle.

He pondered Potter's answer as they rode, bumping along at a slow rate. He supposed it was true. The boy had seen his mother die, his friend die, and his god father die. He wasn't totally surprised by the fact that Potter could see them. He had caused most of the deaths anyway.

Crabbe coughed loudly, and Voldemort glared at him. "Yes, Crabbe?"

"I was just wondering..." He mumbled, wondering if what he was about to say would get him in trouble.

"Continue,"

"What is the master's plan?" Voldemort looked at Crabbe curiously. He had never thought him the type to ask a smart question.

"He only informs his most trusted Death Eaters."

"But...you know, don't you?" Asked Goyle, butting into the conversation.

"Of course I do." He said snootily, just like a Malfoy would.

"Well...I think we should know too." Crabbe finished. Voldemort narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the new question asking Crabbe and Goyle. He supposed it made sense for them to know, though, since he did need more then just himself to spy on Potter.

"The Dark Lord wants Potter. He wants to torture him, make him pay for all that he's done. Our job is to watch Potter, get him to trust me, and deliver him to the Dark Lord. If we do, we will be greatly rewarded." He left out a few details on purpose. After all, he couldn't fully trust them, and they weren't even Death Eaters.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Crabbe and Goyle sat back again, looking very much like their old dumb confused selves.

"You do what I tell you to do." And the was the end the discussion.

The rest of the ride was long and uneventful. When the carriage finally came to a stop, Voldemort wasted no time in getting out and taking his first good look at Hogwarts since he had gone there himself.

The huge castle loomed over him, dark and foreboding, while at the same time warm and welcoming. Windows glowed a pale yellow. Owls flew in the sky around it, and the moon rested just above the castle, giving it a magical glow. Voldemort smiled a huge smile. "I'm home..."He whispered.

He was brought back to reality when he was shoved forward and almost fell down. He spun around, growling, wand it hand, to come face to face with two red headed twins.

They were smiling similar smiles, similar shirts, and one gave him a punch on the shoulder. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy. Heard you were bothering my dear brother and his friends. This true?"

"Cuz if it is, well, then we have a problem." He punched his fist into his hand, to look threatening, but failed because of the smile on his face.

"I dare you." Voldemort said icily. The smiles fell from the twins faces for a second.

Suddenly there was a shout. "Fred! George! What are you guys doing here?"

Ron ran up, smiling, Harry and Hermione in tow. The twins reached out and ruffled their younger brothers hair. "Why if it isn't little ickle Ronnie kins! We haven't seen you in about...five days!"

"Shut up, Fred. You know I hate it when you call me that." Ron mumbled, but you could tell he was happy.

"What are you guys doing here? Decided to finally complete your education?" Hermione put in jokingly. They seemed to have completely forgotten that Voldemort was there. He was tempted to leave, but what the twin's said next perked his interest.

"Ha, that'll be the day, Hermione." One twin, who he assumed was Fred, chuckled.

"We're here on important business for Dumbledore." The other, George, puffed out his chest importantly. "Said he wanted to talk to us about something very, very secret."

"Extremely important," Fred nodded in agreement. "We can't even tell you guys."

"So very true. Trusts just me and Fred with it. Secret Order business, is what Dumbledore said."

"Why would Dumbledore tell you?" Harry questioned.

Voldemort leaned forward hoping they would mention more, but they finally seemed to remember he was there. They glared at him, and he turned to walk away, but then there was a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think we're quite finished you yet, you little ferret."

Out of pure reflex from his school days, Voldemort swung around, wand in front of him, and yelled the first jinx that came to his mind.

Fred fell back onto his butt, blood gushing out of his nose. It stained the front of his Weasley's Wizard Wheezes t-shirt and didn't seem to be stopping. He looked up at Voldemort hatefully. "You little git!"

The Dark Lord took this opportunity to run. He heard voices yelling behind him but he ignored them. He didn't stop running until he was inside the castle, and the others were far behind him. He leaned against the wall, relaxing. "Getting in trouble already, are we?" Snickered a portrait near his head. He ignored it.

Voldemort became aware of students walking into the Great Hall, sitting down for the start of term feast. He knew he would have to hurry if he wanted to slip the potion into Potter's drink without being noticed.

The kitchens were close by. He knew this because when he was at school he had went down there a lot when he missed dinner because he was studying.

He went through many paintings, remembering every password without hesitation, and shocked that they hadn't changed them in such a long period of time.

When he finally made it, he pushed open the door quietly and peered inside. House-elves were everywhere, cooking and cleaning, setting out food on tables, preparing it to get sent up to the hungry students above.

Sure there were no wizards there, Voldemort stepped inside. Not one House-Elf noticed, so engrossed were they in their work. He searched the crowd and spotted one elf who was wobbling slightly, sitting on a stool, the only one who wasn't busy with some task.

It was obvious that this elf was drunk from the way the eyes didn't focus and it was humming to itself. 'Perfect,' thought Voldemort. He headed over to it, careful not to bump into any of the others.

It was no trouble at all to place the imperious cruse on the elf, as its mind was too confused to even think of fighting back.

"I want want you to pour this into Harry Potters drink. All of it. Understood?" He handed it the potion.

The elf nodded dumbly. "Winky will do so, sir."

"And tell no one else." He added threateningly.

"Winky will tell no one..." It mumbled, the drink slurring its speech.

Satisfied, Voldemort turned to leave, but was blocked by a small elf with large ears, huge green eyes, and hats stacking nearly as tall as Voldemort.

"What is Mister Malfoy doing here?" Dobby, the Malfoy's old house-elf asked accusingly. Voldemort looked his nose down at the creature, aggravated about being held up.

"Making sure you elves don't poison the food." He sneered, pushing past the small elf.

"Dobby will be telling Mister Dumbledore about you being here!" Dobby shouted after him.

"Go ahead, then!" He said back, shoving a passing elf, causing it and the food it was carrying to crash to the ground. Staying in character was very important in this case. Other elves came forward to clean up the mess, while the elf he had knocked down was already back on its feet, shuffling away to get more food.

He stalked out the kitchens,slamming the door behind him. When he was away, he stood up straight, ruffled his hair and fixed his robes. He acting skills really were superb. He wasn't the least bit worried about giving such an important task to a drunken house-elf. The imperious curse was stronger than any drunkenness. The elf would do what it had been told.

If he was worried about anything, it was the fact that stupid vermin Dobby was going to report him to Dumbledore. Malfoy couldn't be caught in places he wasn't supposed to be. It would draw attention, and Voldemort didn't need that.

He made it to the Great Hall with minutes to spare. When he walked in Dumbledore was in the middle of the welcome back speech. Upon Voldemort's entrance, the Headmaster fell silent. All eyes turned on Voldemort, who stood unblinkingly under the gaze of all the students.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said, finally breaking the silence. "So nice of you finally join us. Please take a seat." Voldemort avoided making eye contact with the Headmaster, worried that the old man would be able to see right through him. He walked past all the whispering students, and over to the Slytherin table, where he took a seat next to Crabbe and Goyle.

A girl across from him, who had a very pug-like face, seemed disappointed by this. Voldemort made a mental note to avoid this girl.

Dumbledore started up his speech again. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. As you may have noticed we are again without a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. So, I have decided to reappoint someone you might remember. Let's give a hand for Professor Lupin!"

There was an explosion of cheering. Voldemort looked over and saw that half the Gryffindors' had stood up and were clapping loudly, cheering and highfiving. Only a handful of Slytherins' clapped, and it was only halfheartedly.

Dumbledore continued, but Voldemort tuned him out. He had heard it all before. Instead he scanned the staff table, taking in the new teachers. His eyes stopped on one in particular. Greasy haired and hook-nosed, Snape sat as sullen as ever. As if feeling Voldemort's gaze upon him, Snape turned and looked directly at him. There gazes locked for exactly six seconds. Voldemort shot him an evil smile and Snape glared at him, confusion etched in his face.

Voldemort looked away. Snape wasn't in on the plan. Voldemort couldn't fully trust him just yet. He still didn't know exactly were Snape's loyalties lay, with him or with Dumbledore. He was also curious as to how Snape would treat him, not knowing it was his master.

Suddenly food appeared in front of him, filling the tables, which groaned under the weight. There was everything. Ham, potatoes, salads of every kind, macaroni and cheese, roast chicken, corn, bread, french fries, soup, and so much more.

Unfortunately, Voldemort wasn't very hungry. He placed some mac and cheese on his plate, and picked at it. His focus was on the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter sat, laughing with his friends. Voldemort waited desperately for him to take a drink. Finally the boy reached for his drink and took a sip. There was no reaction at first, till Harry suddenly grasped his head in both of his hands, a look of pain on his face.

Voldemort again slipped into Potter's mind, and found it was much easier than any other time before. There was no resistance at all, any pitiful shields the boy used to have were gone. He looked out through Potter's eyes. Harry's friends were staring at him worriedly.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned. "Is it your scar?"

Potter responded. "No...just my head. Its just a headache...don't worry about it."

His friends didn't look convinced, but they went back to eating and talking all the same. Potter seemed to have lost his appetite. Voldemort went back to his own mind, happy that the potion was effective. It would be child's play to send the boy nightmares now.

"Draco, are you alright? You're very quiet." The girl across from his asked.

"I'm fine," He said.

"Are you sure? You aren't eating much." She leaned forward, her eyes filled with overdone worry.

"I'm _fine." _Voldemort insisted.

"Where were'd you go before you came here?" Voldemort sighed. This girl was being extremely annoying.

"My business is my own."

The girl shrank back, a hurt look on her face. Voldemort didn't much care. He wasn't here to make nice with Draco's friends.

"Oh..."

Voldemort continued to pick at his food, his eyes flickering from Dumbledore to Harry, keeping an eye on both of them. He had to admit he was a little concerned with the whole Dumbledore issue. If anyone could see through his disguise it would be Dumbledore.

He would just have to stay low; not do anything drastic. He would have to become unnoticeable if he wanted any chance of the plan working.

When the dinner disappeared and the desserts came, Voldemort reached out and took a treacle tart, his favorite dessert. There was no way he could turn down one of those.

When his belly was full of wonderful cherry tartness, the plates cleared and Dumbledore stood again.

"Hopefully you enjoyed your meals and are ready to have a good nights sleep. But before you leave, I do have an extra rule for this year. As you all know, Lord Voldemort has returned." There were gasps and whispers all around the room at the mention of his name. He looked over and saw Potter roll his eyes. Anger flared up in him. Even if the whole of Hogwarts feared him, he would never be happy till Potter did.

"Quiet, please. Out of safety for all of you, I strongly caution all of you to stay in groups. And all students are to be in their Common rooms by 8:00 pm every night." Immediately the complaints started, flowing around the room like waves. Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing them.

"Please, let me finish. Hogsmeade visits will still be available for third years and up, but teachers will be walking around the area, in case anything should happen. Do not let this affect your time at Hogwarts. We only want your safety." Dumbledore's gaze seemed to fix on Potter at this statement. "First years find your house Prefects and they will take you to your dormitories. Classes start tomorrow. Goodnight."

Students everywhere stood and headed for the doors. Voldemort was caught up in the crowd. "First years! Slytherin first years over here!" came the shout from a Prefect to his left, who was struggling to be seen in the crowd. Voldemort managed to stumble along, through the halls, past the ghosts, down the stairs and into the dungeons. Outside of the entrance to the common room, which was a large metal door with snakes etched on its surface, a Prefect strode forward and announced the password with an air of authority. "Atrum hora."

The snakes slithered around the door and it swung open, revealing the Slytherin common room beyond.

Voldemort walked inside and froze, memories flooding him. He remembered his first time in the Slytherin common room. He had been the only first year who wasn't wetting their pants. He also remembered all the time he spent studying on the couches by the fire.

He took in the dark chairs, the tables scattered about the room. There were book shelves lining the walls, so the Slytherins barely even needed to go to the library. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, candles providing a dim glow in the room.

Voldemort instantly felt at home; a feeling he hadn't felt in so long. "Draco, you coming?" A tall, dark boy said, waving him over to a door that lead to the dormitories.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Voldemort took one last look around and headed after the boy. When they finally reached their room, all the other boys crashed into their four posters, too tired to even move.

Voldemort walked over to his own bed, which Draco's trunk lay at the foot of. He crawled into bed and pulled the hangings around, so nobody could see him.

He laid back, enjoying the soft covers and warm bed. 'I could get used to this.' he thought to himself. He closed his eyes, reaching out for Harry's mind. The boy was already deep into sleep.

Voldemort sent some of the worst nightmares he could think of into the boy's mind. And as Voldemort slept peacefully, Harry Potter tossed and turned, unable to escape the torment in his mind.


	5. Help in potions

The next day at breakfast, Voldemort was happy to look across the Great hall and see that Potter had obviously gotten very little sleep the night before. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was even messier than usual. The boy wasn't even touching his breakfast, but staring at the table, unblinkingly.

Voldemort couldn't have asked for it to go better.

He saw that Potter's friends were questioning him,trying to find out the problem. Potter just shook his head, refusing to answer. Voldemort had to smile openly at the results. And those nightmares were only the beginning.

Voldemort pushed his cereal around in his bowl. Ever since his rebirth he had found that he was never particularly hungry. He would eat here and there, when he wanted to, but it was just that, a want more than a need. It really was quite depressing.

"Draco, you have a package."Said the girl who was yet again sitting across from him.

Indeed he did. A large gray barn owl stood one legged on the table in front of Voldemort, with a large, square package tied to its leg. It looked slightly ruffled, and tired. When Voldemort relived the owl of its burden, it flew off, it no mood to deliver a reply.

The package stated simply, "To: Draco, The Great Hall, Hogwarts."

When opened, the package revealed bright candy wrappers, boxes of sweets, and a letter addressed to him. Forgetting the sweets for a moment, he ripped open the letter and saw his Death Eater, Dolohov's rough and jagged handwriting.

_My Lord,_

_Enclosed are the potions you desired. All the Dark Chocolate frogs are real, to avoid suspicion. So are some of the other candies. I have included a list of which is which. All the potions are professionally made, ideal for your purposes. The peppermint toads hold the poison that you wanted for the boy. It was difficult to get, but we have accomplished this great feat on your orders, My lord. I hope you are satisfied._

_Dolohov_

Voldemort felt his smile grow even wider. His Death Eaters weren't totally incompetent, it seemed. They had managed to complete this task, at least. A very important task.

Instantly Slytherins' converged on him, but they knew better than to steal from Draco Malfoy. They stood, pitiful looks on there faces. Voldemort looked at the list Dolohov had left him. The Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans were safe, so he gave them these and some Chocolate flies, which they took and left. Slytherin's don't thank people.

"Can we have some?" Crabbe asked, indicating himself, Goyle, and the girl across the table.

Voldemort leaned over and whispered in Crabbe's ear. "Do you want to die?"

Crabbe's face took on a frightened expression and he shook his head hurriedly. "Than no, you can't have any."

He bundled all the poisoned sweets together, making sure to tuck the letter in his pocket, and left the Great Hall to put all of this stuff in the dormitory. Kids stared as he walked past, whether in awe or in jealously he wasn't sure, and didn't much care.

In the dormitory he placed most of the candies in his trunk, with the list on top. He put the Peppermint toads in little box that he had brought with him. After placing some particularly complicated protection spells on it, he too placed this in the trunk, near the very bottom so no one would be able to see it.

They would only be used if the boy was too stubborn to trust him. He didn't want to resort to poisoning Potter, though. That wouldn't be much fun at all.

Glancing down at his watch, Voldemort realized that he only had a few minutes to get to his first class, which was Transfiguration. He tore out of the dormitory, through the common room, and out the door, hurrying so he wouldn't be late.

He burst through the class room doors, breathing heavily. A tall woman, with black hair pulled back into a tight bun, wearing all green, had been in the middle of a speech, but now her lips were pursed in disapproval. Potter and his friends laughed behind their hands.

"Mister Malfoy, care to tell us why you are late to class?" Voldemort forced himself to look her directly in the eyes.

"I lost track of time."

The woman gave him a quick once over, then directed him to sit in a seat at the front of the class. Voldemort sat as the rest of the class giggled behind his back. "That will be five points from Slytherin for your tardiness." The Slytherin's groaned, and shot glares at him, but Voldemort didn't much care.

"As I was saying, you are sixth years now and I expect the best from you. The class will not always be easy. The O.W.L scores we received from you were decent. Now your teachers will begin to prepare you for your N.E. which will take place next year. The N.E. will be very important. Even more so than your O.. So do not take them lightly."

Her gaze swept the room, making sure the students had heard every word.

"Very well. Today we will be turning porcupines into pillows. Directions are on the board. Good luck."

A short, stubby girl passed around boxes to all the students. When opened, a particularly peeved porcupine popped out onto the table. Immediately there was the sound of spells being cast and lights bouncing all around the room.

Voldemort sighed. He really had been hoping for something a bit more challenging. This was Hogwarts, after all. With a wave of Draco's wand, the porcupine in front of of him was transformed into a beautiful couch cushion, elaborately decorated, and a very lovely shade of dark green.

He looked around and saw that all the other students were utterly failing. Some had managed to change the color of their porcupine, but hadn't gotten no farther then that.

Other then himself, only the Granger girl had managed to complete the task. Of course her pillow wasn't nearly as good as his, but was a pillow nonetheless. Both Potter and Weasley were both trying unsuccessfully to also accomplish this, but Voldemort noted they were doing so all wrong. Out of boredom he took to critiquing them under his breath.

"Wrong wand movement. Its a gentle sweep, not a sword fight." He whispered, as Weasley nearly impaled his porcupine.

Potter on the other hand, was barely trying. His movements were sluggish, and he mumbled the spells instead of speaking them clearly. Eventually he gave up and placed his head on the table, closing his eyes. Voldemort decided to give the boy a few minutes of undisturbed sleep. The nightmares that would come tonight would make up for it.

Eventually, seeing that the class was not going to progress any further, and that their time was almost up, the professor stood and called out for everyone's attention.

"Most of you have been...unsuccessful in today's assignment. If you wish to have any chance of passing you N.E. you will have to do much, much better than this. If you succeed in transforming your porcupine, please raise your hand."

Only two hands went up. The professor let out a sigh. "Very well," she said. "Pay close attention."

She walked over to the desk the Granger girl was at and picked up her pillow, showing it to the class. "See how Miss Granger has done it? Soft, spikes are gone. Very well done."

Granger beamed. "Thank you, Professor McGonagal."

Next, Professor McGonagal came over to where Voldemort was sitting, as if she wasn't expecting anything. But when she saw his pillow she stopped dead. "Mister Malfoy...how did..?" She lifted his pillow, turning it over and tracing the designs with her thumb. "This is brilliant! Ten points to Slytherin. Very, very well done, Draco."

Voldemort smiled at the praise and the dirty looks from the other classmates. It reminded him of when he had been in his 6th year. He had always been best in class.

Again Professor McGonagal went to the front of the class. "I expect all of you to take a leaf out of Mister Malfoy's book and study hard. For those of you who didn't finish, your homework is to practice for next class."

Her eyes swept the class again and landed on Potter, who was fast asleep. "Mister Potter, please sleep on your own time."

Harry reminded asleep. Ron shook his shoulder but it was useless.

The clock on the wall rung. "Class is dismissed." Immediately the students stood and left, all except Voldemort, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron was again shaking Harry, trying to wake him up. Professor McGonagal also came over.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. It was completely obvious that the boy was dead tired. Smart people would let him be, but apparently these people weren't very smart. He decided to do them a favor. He gathered up his books and stood, looking as if he was leaving. When he walked past Potter, he slipped into the boy's mind. _'Wake up, Harry...Wake up...' _

Potter stirred, but still did not wake. Frustrated, Voldemort sent a jolt of pain through the boy's skull.

Harry sat up and gasped, clutching his head. "Harry, are you alright?"

Voldemort left before hearing anymore. He did, after all, have to get to his next class: Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

All throughout the class Voldemort paid little attention. He had never liked Herbology. It was a dreadfully boring class. Not to mention the fact that he was also not a big fan of the Hufflepuffs. The professor, who he learned was Professor Sprout, rambled on and on about plants this and plants that.

Voldemort leaned his head against his hand and waited for the class to be over. Luckily, today's lesson was only review. The professor placed plants in front of each student and asked what they were called. Voldemort was able to answer each question perfectly, earning five more points for Slytherin.

Finally it was time to leave, and Voldemort let out a sigh of relief. Now onto his second favorite class: Potions. And the best part? It was with the Gryffindors.

He made sure to cut it close when he arrived at that Potion's so that almost everybody was there. He walked in and saw that Potter was sitting at a table by himself. For some reason his friend Weasley had yet to arrive.

It was the prefect opportunity.

He walked over and took the seat right next to Potter, who looked at him questionably. Right at that moment, Ron Weasley ran in, just in time. He looked around and spotted Voldemort sitting next to his best friend.

He stalked over and glared at Voldemort. "That's my seat, Malfoy."

"No," Voldemort put on an innocent smile. "Today it is my seat."

Ron pulled his fist back and was about to deliver a punch to Voldemort's face, when his hand was caught mid-punch. Snape stood behind him, an annoyed look on his face. "Weasley. Find a seat."

"But Malfoy...!"

"Is sitting in a seat and not wasting my time." Snape said coldly. Ron looked like he wanted to say more, but he knew that would be an incredibly stupid idea. He shot one last glare at Voldemort, and took a seat next to a boy with sandy hair.

Snape gave Voldemort a once over, a suspicious look in his eyes. Voldemort smirked at him.

Finally Snape walked to the front of the class, and began a long-winded explanation of what he expected from the students this year. Voldemort pondered if he should listen or not. He decided against it. He already knew all of this stuff anyway.

He felt Potter's tired gaze on him, so he turned and looked at the boy.

"Why are you sitting here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his drooping eyes locked on Voldemort's.

"Do you not enjoy my company, Potter?" He whispered so Snape wouldn't hear them.

"No...I can't say I do."

"Well," Voldemort smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. Now my turn to ask a question. Why are you so tired? Bad dreams?"

Potter squirmed uncomfortably. "It's none of your business..."

Voldemort was going to bother him more about it, but that was when Snape announced loud enough for the whole class to hear, "Today you will be making a hair growth potion. Its simple enough. I would expect 6th years to at least make a decent effort. Instructions are on the board. Begin."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. Hair growth potion? That was second year stuff. He had expected so much more from Snape's classes. Oh well. At least it would be easy.

He set to work, placing his cauldron atop a small fire he had conjured. The water started boiling and Voldemort began adding ingredients based on the list inside his head, totally ignoring the instructions on the board. In minutes he was done, his potion a perfect shade of brown.

When he looked over to see how Potter was doing, he realized the boy was totally lost. His potion was blue, his fire was much too big, and he was cutting his ingredients all wrong. Voldemort could tell that Harry was just struggling to stay awake, and could care less about making the potion correctly.

An idea forming in his mind, Voldemort reached over and snatched the knife from Harry's hand. "No, no, no, you're doing it all wrong. You cut Bilberry roots like this..." He showed him the proper technique.

"Why do you care?" Harry mumbled, snatching back the knife.

"I will not sit here and watch you destroy a potion so simple a child could make it." They glared at each other. Then Voldemort began instructing him in exactly how to make the potion. Potter hurriedly followed every order, seeing this as an opportunity to get a good mark.

"But the board says..." Voldemort stopped Potter from saying anything further. He didn't like being interrupted.

"What the board says is irrelevant. Snape is required to give you those instructions, when in reality there is a much easier way to do this."

Potter continuously glanced at Voldemort, while adding ingredients and stirring his potion, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Draco Malfoy actually being somewhat nice? It was insanity.

And Voldemort counted on this. Potter was uneasy. But Voldemort could also tell that he was unsure of the new Draco Malfoy. Was he still a foe or, maybe, as weird as it sounds, a friend? As Voldemort rambled off ingredients , he noticed a small smile pass over Harry's face. A smile of pride.

At last Potter's potion was as perfect as Voldemort's. And Snape hadn't noticed Voldemort helping out.

"There. See? It wasn't hard at all." Voldemort waved his wand and the fire under Harry's cauldron went out.

Harry stood frozen for a moment. He turned and looked at Voldemort with an eyebrow raised. "Why did you help me?"

"Why not?" Voldemort replied. Actually he had a perfectly good reason for helping the boy. It was trust. If Voldemort helped Harry in something he wasn't good at, it would eventually lead to help in other things and eventually an overall trust.

While he knew Potter was still suspicious and nowhere near trusting him, he also felt the boy's shields come down just a bit. It wasn't much, but enough for Voldemort to realize that Potter could indeed be swayed.

Snape took his spot in front of the class. The students stopped moving at once. Looking around, Voldemort saw, like in Transfiguration, a lot of students had utterly failed. He saw potions of purple, orange, and even red. A few potions had exploded, their contents all over their makers and the floor.

He had expected more from Hogwarts students.

Apparently, so had Snape. He stalked around the room, finding fault in every students potion. Even the Granger girl's. Her hair had frizzed up and she was frowning as Snape told her that her potion was the wrong consistency.

When Snape came over to their table, Voldemort knew he had low expectations. But when he looked into their cauldrons, he froze. His eyes went from one potion to the other, checking for any faults.

But there were none. Voldemort had made sure of that. Each one was perfect as could be.

Snape turned his gaze on Voldemort, who gazed right back, a small smile on his face.

"Did you help Potter?" It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

Voldemort placed a sneer on his face. "Me? Help Potter? Yeah right. What would I possibly gain from helping him, Professor?"

Voldemort played on the fact that everybody knew Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter. Snape knew this. He turned instead to Potter, who had his arms crossed defiantly, as if daring Snape to accuse him of cheating.

Snape glared again at the two of them, evidently unsure of who to blame. "Your potions are...acceptable. As a potion's master I am impressed. Five points to Slytherin and five points...to Gryffindor." He looked as if it hurt to say this last part. A collective gasp went up around the room. Snape giving points to Gryffindor? It had never before happened. And to Harry Potter of all people. This was surely a moment for the history books.

Snape stalked back up to the front of the class. "Take a vial full of your potion and place it on my desk. I will mark them and give you your grades next class. You are dismissed."

The students placed their potions on Snape's desk one by one. Potter left Voldemort to join up with his friends, without so much as a thank you, a clear sign that one good mark wasn't going to change anything.

Voldemort was one of the last ones to put his vial on Snape's desk. Turned to leave and head to lunch, but Snape stopped him with a tight grip on his arm.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Draco?" Crabbe and Goyle stood by the door, looking from Draco to the exit as if unsure what to do. He mouthed "Follow Potter" to them and waved them away. Goyle nodded that he understood and pulled Crabbe out of the classroom. The door shut behind them with a loud bang. Voldemort knew there wasn't another option. He decided to humor Snape.

"I don't know, Professor." He sucked on his teeth, like he was actually thinking about it. "I am kind of hungry. Don't want to miss lunch."

The grip tightened. "I think you can spare a few minutes."

Voldemort sighed. "Fine." He plopped down in the seat across from Snape, arms crossed. "What is it?"

Snape leaned back in his own chair, examining him. The silence bored Voldemort, so attempted to slip into Snape's mind out of the pure need to do something beside sitting there. Instantly he was meet with resistance.

The potion's master felt the intruder and slammed his mind shut, causing Voldemort to be forced out. Snape stood up, placed his hands on the desk between them, and leaned forward, his face angry.

"I heard word that the Dark Lord has given you another assignment, Draco. Is this true?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't the Dark Lord tell you everything, Professor? I was under the impression you were his most trusted Death Eater."

Snape's face went dark. "The Dark Lord does _trust_ me."

Voldemort examined his nails. "Then you would know about the plan, wouldn't you, Severus?" He glanced at Snape, who had visibly paled.

"What did you just call me?" He mumbled. Voldemort felt a force trying to get into his mind but he forced it back.

"What are you talking about, Professor?" He put on an innocent smile.

Snape looked thoroughly confused. He looked like he was scrambling for something to say. "How did you make that potion?"

"I practiced of course." Voldemort leaned forward and placed his hands together. "Why am I here again?" he asked.

"I want you to know that I can help you, Draco. You don't have to face the Dark Lord's task on your own."

Voldemort knew Draco's mother had put Snape up to this. Snape wouldn't give Draco the time of day otherwise. "You know what, Professor? I promise I'll keep that in mind if the Dark Lord does give me another assignment." He stood up. "I'll be sure to tell you, in case the Dark Lord forgets." With an evil smile he turned and left, leaving Snape to glower behind his desk.

Sure he had been a little harsh. But it was necessary to test Snape's loyalties.

After all, the Dark Lord didn't want traitors in his ranks.

The Great Hall was mostly packed when he got there. He walked over to the Slytherin table and took his seat.

"So what did Snape want?" Asked Crabbe, a sandwich halfway to his mouth.

"He wanted to know how I made a potion so perfect he couldn't even make it that well." Voldemort reached out and also took a sandwich, this one PB & J. Voldemort had a fondness for foods he had eaten when he was in the orphanage. He had never grown to enjoy anything else.

"Yeah...how did you do that?" Asked the girl with the pug-face.

"I learned how. Simple as that." Voldemort's eyes scanned the table till he found what he was longing for. One of the things he liked about Hogwarts was that he got to eat whatever he wanted.

Pulling his sandwich apart, he placed a handful of crisps in the middle. When he put it back together, he took a huge bite, feeling the crisps crunching between his teeth.

"Draco! That's disgusting!" yelled the pug-face girl. Slytherins around the table turned to stare at her.

"How about you say that a little louder? I don't think the whole hall heard you, Pansy." Said a black boy sitting to Voldemort's left. Pansy huffed and crossed her arms

Voldemort looked over at the Gryffindor table. The Weasley twins were there this time, talking to Potter and his friends. He wondered if they had already spoken with Dumbledore.

He would visit Potter's mind later to see if he knew anything. Not right now though. He couldn't be seen constantly staring blankly into space.

After lunch, the day seemed to drag by. He already knew everything about what the Professors were teaching. Defense Against the Dark Arts proved to be boring. The teacher, Lupin, went on and on about defensive spells. Voldemort really did hope school would get a bit more interesting.

His first day had been, in a word...disappointing. This angered him greatly. What had happened to Hogwarts? What happened to teachers who were devoted to their subjects, and could actually teach?

Voldemort had come back to Hogwarts not only to complete the plan, but also (though he would never tell anyone) because he rather missed school. The Malfoy Manor, the Riddle house. Neither of these would ever make Voldemort feel as at home as Hogwarts had.

But that had all changed, he realized. He sat at dinner awhile later, thinking of this. He would have to put petty memories aside. Though I was hard, Voldemort pushed aside his thoughts of wanting to burn the whole castle to the ground for changing, and again focused. Getting distracted wouldn't help him. The plan wasn't for him to relive his school days.

Voldemort pulled through dinner and returned to the common room, where again that girl, Pansy, tried to strike up a conversation. Luckily, for Voldemort was about to crack, her friends pulled her away, leaving Voldemort to his own devices. He sat next to the fire in a green armchair, gently massaging his temples. Dealing with teenagers was going to take all his patience.

As the common room emptied, Voldemort still sat, avoiding Draco's friends attempts to drag him into games of Wizard chess and Exploding Snap. He was thinking. Plans inside of plans forming in his mind. Sinking into the softness of the armchair, Voldemort felt his eyes start to drop.

He shook himself. How could he possibly be tired at a time like this? He had so much to do. He had to write back to his Death Eaters, and visit them to make sure they were following orders. The potions hadn't been checked and tested. He had to plan at least six more attacks so the people of the Wizarding World wouldn't be lulled into a false sense of security.

He yawned, stretching his arms. And of course he had to deal with Potter. God, was he annoying. Not to mention his homework. Voldemort snuggled up against the back of the chair, eyes drooping. He was fighting a losing battle, but he was determined to at least send Potter the nightmares first. He was too tired to even bother checking if the boy was asleep or not.

Sleep fought with his brain, clouding his thoughts. He felt a small pain in the back of his head before sleep got the best of him and his head fell forward.

Only there was something Voldemort hadn't counted on. Getting trapped in the very nightmares he had sent Harry Potter.


	6. Nightmares

Voldemort was running. Why, he wasn't sure. Trees were all around him, the sky a dark black. A full moon hung overhead, and tiny shafts of moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating his path. Tall grass brushed his legs. So he was in a forest, then? The Forbidden Forest, maybe? But how had he gotten here? It was so hard to think with the ice cold wind biting at his face. His thoughts jumbled together, and he tired to put them in order.

Last thing he remembered he had fallen asleep in the Slytherin common room when he was...Suddenly it clicked. Voldemort mentally slapped himself. How could he have been so stupid! He had fallen asleep before he had completely sent the dreams to Potter! Now he was stuck until the boy woke up.

His feet seemed to move of their own accord, pulling him onward through the forest. He massaged his temples. He had to think! What dreams had he sent Potter?

But that was the problem. Voldemort couldn't remember. _'Wait a moment,' _thought Voldemort, looking around._ 'If these dreams are meant for Potter, then that must mean...'. _

Then he spotted him. Harry Potter was running as well, a look of terror on his face, a little ways behind Voldemort. His breath came out in ragged gasps, forming a mist in front of his face. He was glancing back over his shoulder at something Voldemort couldn't see. Potter didn't seem to notice the other occupant of his dream. Or nightmare, as it was better put.

Voldemort forced his feet to stop moving. He was going to be in control of this dream. He reached out a hand as Potter was passing, and closed it tightly around the boy's arm. The pale fingers that cut into Potter's skin were his own, Voldemort was glad to discover.

Draco doing something like this would surely make Potter avoid him forever.

Instantly Potter struggled and yelled, terror consuming him. "Let go of me! Let go...They're coming! Please..." He was shaking, trying desperately to pull free.

"Who's coming, Harry?" Voldemort hissed. Harry froze, and his head turned to look at his captor. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.

"Voldemort?" He stammered. He seemed to have forgotten all about what had been chasing him. Again he began struggling, this time harder, this new nightmare apparently worse than the other. Voldemort only tightened his grip and grabbed the boy's hair with his other hand, jerking it back so Harry was forced to stare at him. Harry's green eyes shook as he looked into the face of his mortal enemy.

"Answer my question." Voldemort demanded. Reminded, Harry struggled to look over his shoulder, back the way he had came. Rasping noises came from between the trees.

The boy turned his emerald eyes back on Voldemort, his face full of fright. He whispered, "Dementors..." And Voldemort suddenly understood.

Voldemort forced Harry to turn and face the direction he had run from, pinning the boy's arm behind his back, effectively preventing escape. "Are you afraid of the Dementors, Harry?" The air got colder, ice forming on the ground as the creatures drew nearer. Potter's breath came out in gasps, both from the pain in his head and the fear that flowed through him. Voldemort could feel it.

"No..." He lied. But his shaking form gave him away.

"Are you sure? Then I suppose you won't mind if we just wait here till they come, then? Maybe you can meet one face to face. I bet they would be happy to see you..." Voldemort whispered. The air got even colder, and if Voldemort hadn't been wearing a long black cloak, he would have frozen.

"NO! Please, no...I- I lied. I am afraid of them...Please let me go..." Potter stared blankly ahead, tears streaming down his face as he was forced to relive some of his worst memories. The Dementors didn't effect Voldemort though. This was, after all, just a dream. Potter didn't seem aware of this fact though. He didn't seem to know that he could also control the dream.

"But they're almost here...We don't want to be rude and just leave." Voldemort smiled as Harry looked a him in horror with tear-stained eyes. "Look, Harry. There they are."

There were hundreds of them floating above the ground with torn black cloaks billowing out behind them. Their faces were hidden, but both Harry and Voldemort could hear the creatures breathing deeply, sucking in all happy thoughts. Not that there were many happy thoughts at a time like this. All of them converged on the spot where the pair stood, in silence, Voldemort shocked. Surely this nightmare wasn't his doing. He hadn't even known that Potter was afraid of Dementors. And even though he was the Dark Lord, and hated the boy with a passion, he would never have sent a nightmare of this magnitude.

He wanted real torture to be reserved for the real world.

He whispered in Potter's ear. "How many times have you had a dream like this, Potter?"

"A few..." Voldemort twisted Harry's arm painfully. "Alright, alright...a lot. I've had it a lot."

The Dementors had paused, mere feet from them, hovering silently. Harry was distracted by the questions, his fear put on hold.

"How much is a lot?" Voldemort asked. Harry twitched uncomfortably.

"Almost every night."

"Damn..." Voldemort looked at Potter, who was intentionally averting his eyes from the creatures who encircled them. It was worse than Voldemort had previously thought. Potter wasn't just scared of Dementors. He was terrified. His fear fed them, making this nightmare worse every time it was dreamed. He really needed Potter to wake up now, or the dream would begin affecting him as well.

"Get prepared for one of the worse nightmares of your life." Said Voldemort menacingly. He shoved Harry forward. The boy tumbled and fell, landing sprawled out on the ground. His fear returned, the Dementors fell upon him, and Potter was no longer visible.

Screams ripped through the night. Voldemort stood, arms folded, and waited impatiently for the boy to wake up and take Voldemort with him. Potter's hand came out of the crowd of Dementors and he attempted to pull himself free. His eyes looked up at Voldemort, pleading for help. _'Potter's asking me for help? He's obviously gone off the deep end.'_ thought Voldemort.

A huge Dementor, at least ten feet tall, towered over Potter. It reached down and lifted him off the the ground by his neck.

_'Finally,' _thought Voldemort._ 'Right before the Dementor gives Potter the kiss he'll wake up and this will all be over with.' _He watched with amusement as the Dementor brought Potter closer and prepared to deliver the fatal kiss.

But suddenly the forest was gone and they were falling. Voldemort didn't notice this at first. He was confused. Why wasn't he back in the common room? Potter should have woken up.

It was then he realized that the ground had disappeared. He was shocked for about five seconds before he managed to regain himself and kick in his power of flight, and go down at a less dangerous pace. Potter, on the other hand, was failing in the air, screaming his head off, trying to find purchase anywhere.

Voldemort figured it out. Potter had changed dreams instead of waking up. He would have to endure yet another nightmare.

Potter's eyes found his and he started moving his arms in awkward movements, slowly getting closer to Voldemort. "Help me!" He yelled.

Voldemort scoffed. "Like I would help you." Harry was suddenly a lot closer.

"Potter, what are you...?" Before he could complete his sentence, Potter had latched onto him. Voldemort wasn't used to flying with a passenger, and they both tumbled through the air. The ground was getting closer.

"You idiot!" Voldemort yelled, attempting to pull Potter off him. Harry refused to let go, and instead closed his eyes, digging his nails into Voldemort's arm. "Let go of me! Why can't you just bloody wake up already!" Wind slammed him in the face and he shouted and cursed Potter's stupidity.

The ground was ever nearer, and Voldemort hoped Potter had the sense to wake up before they hit the ground, and not after. Unfortunately, when the ground was mere inches from his nose, the dream only changed yet again.

The pair was sitting in a field, an orange sun hanging overhead. Nothing extraordinary happened immediately. There was a small wind and the grass blew, tickling Voldemort's arms. He turned a steely gaze on the boy sitting next to him. "Where are we?"

"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? You're the one who sends me the dreams." Harry said coldly, folding his arms around himself to keep warm.

"Well it seems neither you nor I have complete control over these dreams. I believed you had something to do with it." Voldemort pulled his hood on and crossed his legs. It looked like they were going to be here for awhile.

"Why are you here anyway?" Harry asked, looking around as if he expected something to happen.

"It seems like there was... a problem that occurred when I was sending you dreams." Voldemort confessed.

"So you screwed up?" Harry said bluntly.

Voldemort glared and crossed his arms. "That is not true."

"Sure its not." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Voldemort accused.

"No. I would never."

"You know how easily I could turn this dream into a horrible nightmare? I could make you go insane, Harry." He hissed, annoyed at the boy's sarcasm.

"You would have done it already. You're just as stuck as I am." A look at Voldemort confirmed this belief.

"If you would just wake up already I wouldn't have to put up with this ridiculousness..."

Harry shot him a look of disbelief. "You think I'm going to help _you? _Of all people? Ummm, let me think about this. Heck no. Not only are you Lord Voldemort, murderer and madman, but you also just happened to throw me to the Dementors. I'm having a perfectly wonderful time sitting here. I don't mind."

"You are being unreasonable.

"That's a laugh. You're the one who sent me these dreams in the first place. It's your fault."

"Why must you be so stubborn! You're worse than your parents were!"

Harry's face darkened. "Listen to me, you snake-faced bastard. You don't ever talk about my parents. _Ever._"

Voldemort stood up furiously. The sky darkened and a fast wind blew. He towered over the boy on the ground, taller than he had ever been. "You seem to have forgotten just who you are dealing with, Harry." The wind got stronger, nearly blowing Harry, who had just stood up, back down again. There was a growl that emitted from somewhere behind Voldemort. Harry took a step back. "I can cause you such agonizing torment you can scarcely imagine."

A huge black dog stalked forward, its red eyes fixated on Harry. Its lips were pulled back in a snarl, showing off its long, drooling fangs. Harry stumbled backwards. The dog moved ever closer.

"I can make you wish you had died with your parents rather than go through the torture I can but you through." Potter tried to turn and run but he couldn't move. Voldemort loved the look on the boy's face. Fear. Pure and utter fear. It was beautiful.

The dog was circling Harry, growling in the back of its throat. Harry's eyes followed it, afraid of looking away. "You will learn to fear me, Harry. However long it takes."

And that was when the dog attacked. Harry yelled and tried to throw his arms up to defend himself. It was too late. The dog sank its huge fangs into Harry's side. Harry screamed, but it was cut short as the dog bit down harder, breaking ribs. Harry fell, bleeding, onto the grass. Voldemort glided over, looking on with interest. Harry was crying, clawing at the beast. Voldemort waved his hand. The dog dropped the bleeding boy from his mouth and ran off into the distance.

Voldemort knelt down next to Harry, whispering in his ear. "Do not doubt me, Harry. This is nothing compared to what I can do." Harry looked up at him, pain in his eyes. Blood covered his clothes and a little stream of blood flowed from his mouth. His breathing was difficult.

Voldemort placed a hand on the boy's chest and it came away covered in scarlet blood. "Don't worry. You won't die. This is just a dream, after all. The best thing you could do, if you want the pain to go away, is wake up." Harry closed his eyes and Voldemort could see the boy was really trying.

There was a flash of colors. But, as Voldemort suspected, Harry had not woken up. It was another dream. Voldemort actually smiled. He had been waiting for this one.

He was in a graveyard. And not just any graveyard. This was the graveyard where his father was buried. And tied to his gravestone, was Harry Potter. The scene took him back. He had known this nightmare was coming. This was going to be fun.

His Death Eaters stood in a circle, enclosing him and Harry. He walked over to the boy who was bound and gagged, and smiled down at him. "I told you to wake up, Harry. It's too late now. Time for me to teach you a few lessons." He removed the gag and placed his long,white finger on Harry's scar. Harry gasped in pain. He tied to pull his face away, but it was useless. The tears came again, and the boy attempted to glare at him through them.

After a few more seconds, he removed the finger. Harry looked away from him, trying to hide the tears. The bonds holding him to the tombstone vanished, and the-boy-who-lived landed in a heap at Voldemort's feet. Harry tried to crawl away, knowing what was going to happen. Voldemort wasn't about to let him go just yet.

"Crucio!" He yelled. His favorite of all the Unforgivable cruses was the torture cruse. It was so personal and much more fun then just killing your enemies. He loved it.

Harry screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. He twitched on the ground like a worm. The look on his face was one of pure agony. And suddenly Voldemort felt all powerful. He increased the power of the spell. Harry's body convulsed violently and he shrieked, clawing at the ground. Tears poured nonstop down his face. The Dark Lord was relentless. He stopped for a few seconds, making the boy think it was over, giving him a bit of hope, then placed him under the curse again, this one worse than the last.

Harry's back arched, trying desperately to escape the pain. He was begging for the torment to end. But Voldemort didn't want it to end. He felt stronger than he had ever felt before. Harry Potter was at his complete mercy. And his screams were a beautiful sound.

Finally, he removed the curse. The thing about Cruciatus Curse was after it ended the pain didn't leave right away. Harry still shuddered and twitched. When the pain finally left his body, he couldn't move, only stare up at the sky, sucking in sweet breaths of air. The Death Eaters laughed.

Voldemort picked the boy up by his throat. Harry couldn't even think of struggling. "Do you fear me now, Harry? Lucky for you this is only a dream. But I promise you that soon, it won't be. When I finally get you, the pain that you just felt will seem like nothing more than a paper cut. The torture will never end." He grinned a predatory grin as he saw Harry's eyes darken in fear. "You can run and tell that to that old fool Dumbledore. He won't protect you from me. Nobody can." He let his words sink in. They were completely true. Dumbledore wouldn't know the threat lay within the castle, and not outside its walls.

He would get Harry Potter, and torture him for as long as he liked. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to do anything about it...

"I suggest you wake up, Harry, or this nightmare will continue. I have no problem with this, in fact I would love it if you stayed, but something tells me you would rather go. Unless, of course, you want to help me test a few new spells..." The words hung in the air between them. They were the only ones in the graveyard. Voldemort had vanished the Death Eaters. They were no use. This was between him and Potter.

Harry's voice came out in a rasp. "I will never fear you." He tried to look threatening through the ghost pain he still felt, but failed.

"Then I guess you haven't learned your lesson. Maybe another hour under the Cruciatus Curse will change your mind?" But before he could utter the dreaded words, Harry pulled back a shaking fist and let it fly right towards Voldemort's face. The blow caught him under the chin. He tasted blood in his mouth.

He threw the boy on the ground in fury, ready to make him beg for mercy that wouldn't come. But before he could say anything, the graveyard vanished and his was back in the common room, sprawled out in the chair by the fire, his wand in his hand.

It took him a few seconds to calm down and get his bearings. His jaw hurt. Damn Potter. Then he realized if he felt this pain, Potter would also feel something. Like the after effects of a Cruciatus Curse. He stood up fast. He ran to his dormitory and threw open the door.

Nobody was there. It must be morning already.

He knew where he had to go. The hospital wing. That's where they would take Potter if he was hurt. He just had to check. And get the little brat back for punching him.

But first...he rifled through his trunk and pulled out a tiny little bottle. Potter was going to be so sorry.

He walked through the hallways, trying to avoid looking suspicious. Very few people roamed the halls. Everybody was supposed to be breakfast. The hospital wing doors were closed when he got there.

When opened, they revealed a group of people huddled around a bed. There was Potter's two friends, the Weasley twins, the Defense Against the Arts teacher, and the nurse was there. When the door slammed behind him, they all turned to look at him.

They gasped. Voldemort quickly looked down at himself, making sure he was still in Draco Malfoy's body and not his own. He was. So why were they looking at him like that?

"Mister Malfoy, what happened?" Said the nurse, coming forward.

Voldemort was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Your face." Said Ron, pointing at his own. "It's messed up."

Voldemort brought a hand up to his face and remembered. He had been punched.

"Oh, that. I fell." It was a weak lie, but the nurse didn't seem to care. She herded him over to the bed next to were the group was standing. The Granger girl and the Weasley's glared at him.

There was a mirror next to the bed, which Voldemort picked up. He looked in the mirror and saw the lower half of his face was covered in blood. He must have bit his tongue. The nurse handed him a towel, which he used to wipe off the blood. He also received a bag of ice to hold to his jaw.

"You just sit here and I'll be with you in a minute." She said, and turned back to the other bed. She told the others to move out of her way and they did, letting Voldemort see.

Harry lay on the bed, paler then snow, his eyes barely open. The left side of his shirt was stained with blood. His eyes meet Voldemort's for a second, taking in his damaged face. Voldemort hoped that Harry wasn't fit enough in the head to put two and two together.

The nurse poured potion after potion down Harry's throat. They didn't seem to have any effect.

His friends whispered to each other, shooting dirty looks at Voldemort. Voldemort didn't care.

When the nurse's back was turned, he reached out and swapped a vial of potion that was sitting on the beside table with his own. Now all he had to do was wait.

It was at that moment that Dumbledore came in, the doors blowing open to let him in. His face was a mask, unreadable. The Headmaster glanced briefly in Voldemort's direction, then hurried over to Harry's side. "Poppy, what happened? Minerva just informed me that Harry was in the hospital wing. She didn't say why."

"I'm not sure, Headmaster. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom brought him in about ten minutes ago. He can tell you." She pointed at Ron.

Ron stepped forward. "Well, Professor, here's what happened. I woke up and went over to get Harry up so we can go down for breakfast. But he wouldn't wake up. Neville came over and tied to help me. Then Harry started bleeding. We started to get worried, so Neville ran to get help. Seamus and Dean had already gone to breakfast. Harry started screaming and twitching. I had to hold him down so he wouldn't hurt himself." Ron took a deep breath. Voldemort leaned in closer, the pain in his jaw momentarily forgotten.

"He started saying...things. And he was screaming so loud. He started crying, and that was when Neville came back with Professor McGonagal and she told us to bring him here. Neville went to get Hermione and Fred and George. Neville left to go to breakfast. He didn't want to say. I think he was scared. Harry hasn't done anything since, but I think he's really awake now."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, like he was thinking. "You said he was bleeding. Where?"

The nurse lifted Harry's shirt up to reveal teeth marks that went deep into the boy's skin. The marks were no longer bleeding, but they still stood out against his skin, impossible to miss. The were in the exact place the dog had bit him.

Dumbledore place his hand on one of them. Harry shivered, his eyes squeezing shut.

"What have you been able to make of this, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm not sure, Headmaster." The nurse muttered, shaking her head. "I think he's been subject to the Cruciatus Curse. But he hasn't left the school. And the bite marks...well I have no idea where those could have come from. I managed to stop the bleeding..I can't do much except give him pain relief potions until I know what happened."

"Headmaster," Professor Lupin said. "Do you think that, maybe, these injuries happened in here," he tapped his head.

Dumbledore nodded. "I have considered it." He grabbed Harry's shoulder and shook him lightly.

"Headmaster!" The nurse barked. "Mr. Potter needs rest. He does not need to be questioned when he's in this state!"

Dumbledore attempted to reassure her. "We need to know what happened, Poppy. It's important."

The nurse crossed her arms and fumed, but did not stop him. Instead she walked back into her office. The Headmaster shook Harry again. "Harry, can you tell us what happened? Does Voldemort have anything to do with this?"

Everyone in the room flinched except for Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Professor Lupin. Even Harry flinched. Voldemort grinned. Harry feared him.

Harry pulled himself up into a sitting position shakily. His voice came out rough and hoarse. "Dreams... there were dreams...he was there..." Harry closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Tell us about the dreams, Harry. What happened?" Dumbledore hesitantly placed a hand on the boys shoulder.

"No...I can't..." Harry placed his head in his hands.

"Come on, mate. We just wanna help." Ron said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

Harry sighed. "Vol...Voldemort sent me these dreams...he was there too. There were Dementors... so many Dementors. I didn't have my wand..." He turned to Professor Lupin. "Remus, I couldn't cast a Patronus...I couldn't."

Remus smiled a sad smile. "It's okay Harry. It's not your fault."

Dumbledore cut him off before he could say anymore. "What bit you Harry?"

Harry's eyes darkened. "He set a dog on me... this big dog with long fangs and claws...it bit me. It bit me because I made him angry..."

"How did you make him angry?" Dumbledore questioned. Voldemort rolled his eyes. _'Give the kid a break, Dumbledore. Can't you see he doesn't want to talk about it?' _He thought.

"I called him...a snake-faced bastard."

The room was completely silent for about ten seconds. Then Fred, George, Hermione, and Ron broke out in uncontrollable laughter. Ron was doubled over, his face redder than his hair.

One of the twins managed to get enough breath to choke, "You did not!" Another bout of laughter. "That's hilarious! Tell him, Harry! Snake-faced bastard...Genius!"

"Please," Dumbledore said seriously, trying to be heard over the laughter. Even Remus was trying not to laugh. "Let Harry continue."

It took a few minutes but the laughter finally died down. Voldemort crossed his arms sullenly. It was bad enough when Potter had said it.

"Harry, what else happened?"

Harry became reserved again. "He kept telling me to wake up. He got mad when I couldn't. I tried...but I couldn't. The dreams just kept changing. The last dream..." He shuddered.

"Yes?"

"We were in the graveyard...the one from the fourth year...He said he was going to teach me a lesson. He...he..." Harry paused. "He used the Cruciatus Curse on me. I-I couldn't think...it hurt too much...it was worse than last time..."

"Did he day anything else?" Remus asked, before Dumbledore could.

Harry nodded. "He said to tell you, Professor Dumbledore, that nobody can protect me from him...that when he finally gets me the pain will never end..." He looked at Dumbledore. "It's true, isn't it? He's going to find me...he'll torture me again..." He fell back against his pillow, all of his energy spent. Tears were coming to his eyes again, like he was remembering the pain he had felt.

"No, Harry. It won't happen." Remus reassured him. "Your safe inside Hogwarts. We'll protect you."

"How did you wake up?" Dumbledore didn't seem to think it necessary to make Harry think he was safe. Voldemort was surprised by Dumbledore's actions. The headmaster's face was stone cold, and his eyes were not twinkling. It seemed like he was deep in thought, making connections that nobody else could see.

"I punched him in the face." Harry admitted. This statement was met by more laughter from his friends. Voldemort threw the bag of ice behind him when no one was looking. If any of these people had even a bit of intelligence they would notice that he had also been punched in the face. Dumbledore's gaze swept over him for a second, but went back to Harry.

The nurse walked over at this moment and told the group that Harry really needed his sleep, and everyone expect the Headmaster and Remus was required to leave. They tried to argue, but Dumbledore told them the same, so they left, still not satisfied that Harry was alright enough to not have the company of his friends.

When the doors shut, the nurse handed Potter a Sleeping potion and told him to drink it. Harry argued that going to sleep would be incredibly stupid, since dreams are what caused the problem in the first place, to which the nurse retorted that the bottle clearly said Dreamless sleep potion, and that he should put a cork in it and just do what she said.

Reluctantly, Potter drank the potion, and as soon as the liquid hit his lips fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The nurse then turned to Voldemort, complaining that it was only the second day of school, and there was no reason they should be injuring themselves already. She forced a pain relieving potion down his throat, and ordered him to get some sleep. She left.

Voldemort felt a little drowsy, but he wanted to hear the conversation that was about to take place. He made himself comfortable.

Remus and Dumbledore stared at Harry. "Can you explain it, Dumbledore? The dreams have never effected him like this before."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm not sure. It is possible that the connection between the Dark Lord and Harry has been strengthened somehow."

Voldemort shook his head and sat up. It was time to get in some good points with the old headmaster.

"It happened at the fight in the Department of Mysteries, when the Dark Lord attempted to possess Potter." He said. Remus and Dumbledore turned and looked at him curiously.

"And how would you know that, Mister Malfoy?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, obviously suspicious.

Voldemort smiled sleepily. They were interested. He yawned and said, "I overheard my father talking about it. He said the Dark Lord has found it easier to get into Potter's mind. He believes the possession strengthened their connection immensely."

The two stared at him. Remus's mouth was slightly agape. Dumbledore collected himself first. "You are sure about this?"

Voldemort yawned, laying back. "Positive."

"Why are you telling us this?"

He laughed, sleep threatening to over come him. "My father's the Death Eater, Professor, not me." And that was when he fell asleep, leaving Dumbledore and Remus to ponder over this new information.


	7. Letter to a dead man

Voldemort awoke to a headache and a sore back. So much for pain relief potion. He turned stiffly onto his side, and saw that Potter was also awake, staring at the ceiling. The nurse was nowhere to be found. They were all alone…

Alerted by the sound of Voldemort's creaking bed, Harry turned his head slowly to stare at him. "Evening," the boy said, his voice still a little hoarse.

It took Voldemort a second to take in what he had heard. His brain was still a little fuzzy. "Wait," he propped himself up on one arm and used his free hand to rub his head. "Did you just say 'Evening'?"

Harry nodded his head and pointed to the windows. The sky outside was darker than it had been. Much darker. Not yet night, but very close. Then it hit him. "How long have we been asleep?"

Harry started counting his fingers. "About…seven, maybe eight hours."

Voldemort did a face palm. "Crap…" he muttered into his hand. "So are classes over?"

"Far as I know." Harry said sadly. It seemed that he, too, was disappointed in missing classes. Voldemort sighed and lay back down. This had not been part of the plan.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, neither knowing exactly what to say. What conversation could you have with one of your mortal enemies?

Harry finally spoke. "How'd you hurt your face?" At these words Voldemort's jaw began to throb again.

Voldemort hesitated before answering. Did Potter know? "I had a bad dream… Fell out of bed and hit my mouth on the edge."

"What was your dream about?"

Voldemort looked away, pretending like he was embarrassed. "That's kind of personal…"

"Oh…" Harry's eyes became downcast, and he pulled the covers closer to his face, like he wanted to just disappear.

"Why are you here?" Voldemort asked, sitting up and leaning forward, feet dangling over the edge of the bed.

For this question he received a glare. "Like you weren't listening the whole time."

Voldemort put a hand to his chest, like he was shocked that Harry would ever assume such a thing. "I would never."

"Cut the crap, Malfoy. You heard every word." Voldemort didn't like the boy's tone.

"Fine. You caught me." He shrugged. "I was bored. So," He pressed. "You're still having nightmares?"

Harry refused to answer, and instead looked at everything in the room except at Voldemort.

"I'll take that as a yes." Voldemort decided it was time to test how far he could push. "Do you want to talk about them?"

Harry froze. His head turned and he gave Voldemort an unbelieving look. The Dark Lord felt a little color rise in his cheeks. Maybe it was too soon.

"You actually want to know about my dreams? You, Draco Malfoy, actually care about what happens inside my head?" Harry laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. "What, Voldemort hasn't bragged to all his little followers about how easy it is to get into my mind?"

Voldemort's anger was back. It leapt up inside him and practically begged him to torture this annoying boy till he was nothing more than a bleeding lump on the floor. He clenched his fists and ordered himself to calm down before he ruined everything. With a deep breath Voldemort proceeded to calmly speak. "Believe it or not, I am not a fan of the Dark Lord. In fact I've had enough of him. You think you are the only one he sends dreams to? Well you're not. He sends them to all his followers. I've experienced them too." He stopped for effect, letting it sink in. "When you disappoint the Dark Lord, the consequences aren't good. Especially when they mess up and you are involved." He sneered. He saw Harry feeling worse and worse as the speech went on.

"My father was punished severely for that little incident at the Ministry last year. The Dark Lord no longer trusts us with anything. We are shamed. My parents haven't smiled for two years, and it's all because the Dark Lord wants you!" He pointed a shaking finger at the boy across from him. Harry shrunk back. "But, see, I'm willing to put that behind me. I just want the Dark Lord gone. I just want my parents to be happy. And you are the one the Dark Lord is focused on. You are the one who can stop him. I know it. Bad feelings behind us, I can help you and you can help me."

They stared at each other, neither blinking. Voldemort tried to read Potter's face, wanting to see how this fake heart-felt speech had affected the boy. But his face was like Dumbledore's; unreadable.

When Harry finally spoke, it seemed like he was angry. "That was a nice speech, Malfoy. Too bad it's a load of BS. You expect me to feel sorry for you, after everything you've done? After you've made a life even a more of a living hell than it already is ever since my first day of school? Well think again. I'm not stupid. You can go shove it."

Voldemort stood up, ready to tell Harry exactly how much of an idiot he really was, but that was when the nurse finally came back. She stopped at the edge of Voldemort's bed, and looked and the pair who both looked on the verge of killing each other. She raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here?"

Voldemort let himself fall back on his bed, causing him to bounce slightly. "Nothing, Madam. We were just talking."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Just talking…

The nurse gave them another once over, then sighed. "Very well. You two seem to be doing better. You should be able to leave within the hour."

"What!" Voldemort yelled, suddenly very serious. He couldn't stay here for another hour. He had things to do. "An hour? But I'm fine! Look!" He stood up and turned in a circle. "See? Nothing wrong. Can I leave now?" He looked at her with pleading eyes.

"No, Mr. Malfoy. You can sit back down on the bed and shut it till I tell you that it's okay to leave. Unless you want to walk around for the next three days with bruises running up your chin." Before he could ask, the nurse held out a mirror for him to see what see was talking about. Bruises lined the left side of his jaw, shades of purple, yellow, and red. He had to stop himself from glaring at Harry and giving himself away.

Instead he obeyed, sitting and watching as the nurse checked over Potter. She lifted up his shirt and examined the bite marks again. She touched them gently. Harry flinched. "Does that hurt, Mr. Potter?"

"A little," he gasped. The nurse pulled a tube out of her robes and squeezed. A blue, strong smelling gel came out and she rubbed this on the wounds. Next she checked his temperature.

She shook her head. "I think you may need to stay here a bit longer, Mr. Potter. You're still injured. How, I don't know, since no one will bloody tell me. But injured just the same." She sighed and grabbed two small glasses from under the bedside table. Voldemort froze as she grabbed the potion he had switched out and poured a good amount in each glass. She forced it into each of their hands. "Drink."

Voldemort held it out to her. "I can't drink this. It won't do me any good. I'm fine, really." He was almost begging. He couldn't drink it. The side effects…well, they were rather unpleasant.

"Nonsense. It won't hurt." She pushed the cup closer to his mouth. "Now drink."

Voldemort scooted back on the bed and away from the horrible potion. Potter noticed his hesitance and he didn't drink either.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are being ridiculous!" Finally, reaching her breaking point, the nurse grabbed the back of his head and poured the potion down his throat before he could complain.

Voldemort coughed and spluttered, trying to spit out the vile liquid before it could take effect. Harry, seeing the look on the nurse's face, quickly downed the potion. For both of them it was too late.

Each grabbed their stomachs, and made eye contact for three seconds, before they doubled over and puked all over the nurse's pristine white shoes. There was stunned silence. Without a word, the nurse turned and walked away to clean her shoes, apparently too shocked to say anything.

But the potion wasn't done yet. Both Voldemort and Harry threw up six more times before they fell back onto their beds, gasping for air and feeling very empty. After the pain subsided, Voldemort, for no reason in particular, began laughing. Even though it hurt both his throat and his stomach, he laughed, and he didn't know why. It just seemed the right thing to do.

And Harry joined him. They laughed and laughed, till their throats were too sore to do so. Surveying each other over their shoulders, there was a silent agreement that neither would talk of this incident ever again.

Voldemort massaged his throat and tried to remember whose stupid plan this was anyway. Oh yeah, it was his. It was his brilliant idea to sneak into Hogwarts at an attempt to get at Harry Potter. But he had only been there for about two days and already he wanted to leave. This was not going well.

Maybe he should just take Potter and get it over with. No! He reminded himself. That would be much too easy. He wanted Potter and that old fool Dumbledore to know that they had been fooled. He wanted them to know that nobody, especially not a boy of just 16, could ever think of defeating the great Lord Voldemort. He would stay, and continue with the plan.

But then again…teenagers were so bloody annoying.

His internal argument with himself was interrupted as the doors opened. It was Dumbledore again. He came over to Harry's bed and waited calmly for the nurse, who had appeared again with a new pair of shoes, to give him the update.

Dumbledore was dressed in robes of a dark blue, most unusual for a man normally so happy. For some reason, Voldemort suddenly felt very small in the shadow of the tall man. In his regular body, he easily matched the headmaster in height. But now, as Draco Malfoy, Dumbledore seemed like a giant, towering over everything and everyone.

"How has he been doing, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked, like Harry couldn't answer for himself.

"Better…Although because of what just happened I suggest that both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy stay here for a bit longer."

Voldemort nearly screamed. He just wanted to leave!

Dumbledore looked confused. "And what did happen?" He questioned, looking at Voldemort.

Voldemort had to suppress a smile as he pointed to the large puddle of sick in between the beds. Dumbledore just noticed. His nose crinkled in disgust. "It seems as if the pain relief potion was a bit too strong for them. Severus's fault, no doubt. I do believe that man is losing his touch." sniffed the nurse.

With a wave of a wand the throw up vanished and Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Are you still in pain?"

Harry nodded lightly. "And your scar? Has it hurt at all?"

"That's the strange thing…" Harry answered, rubbing his scar. "It hasn't hurt at all since I first came here."

Dumbledore seemed deep in thought for a second. "Harry, dinner will be brought to you here. I want you to remain here till the morning, and then you may return to your classes." He turned to Voldemort before Harry could complain. "Mr. Malfoy, you are free to leave. Dinner should be starting soon."

"Finally…" He hissed, and slipped out of bed.

"But, Headmaster! He is still hurt!" argued the nurse.

"Poppy, please. He seems fine to me. You can go now, Mr. Malfoy." Voldemort didn't need to be told twice. He was halfway across the room before anyone could blink. He was stopped by Dumbledore's voice.

"I want to see you in my office on Thursday, seven o'clock, Mr. Malfoy."

Voldemort froze. Damn that house elf. He must have told. Voldemort looked back over his shoulder and gave a forced smile. "Of course, Headmaster."

And he left, glad to be away from those piercing blue eyes.

He decided to head back to his dormitory and write a letter to his Death Eaters. When he walked into the common room, heads turned and stared at him curiously. Then they noticed his face. Whispers broke out around the room. "If any one says anything about my face I will personally jinx them so bad they will spend a week in St. Mungos. Understood?" His eyes swept around the room, making sure every Slytherin nodded.

He felt their gazes on him as he trudged to his dormitory. His roommates were sprawled around the room, trying to entertain themselves until dinner. He quickly cast the imperious curse on all of them and ordered them to leave. They obeyed eyes blank and feet dragging. "Close the door behind you." He said as he walked over to his trunk. He was just about to open the lid to get a quill and some parchment when he suddenly gasped in pain and fell to his knees. His head felt like someone had let a bomb go off inside of it. He lost control of his arms and fell on his stomach, clenching and unclenching his fist, his breathing difficult. This all happened so fast Voldemort could barely comprehend it all. What was happening? The potion shouldn't be affecting him now.

Another throbbing pain attacked his skull. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to think, but it hurt so much. "Help…" He hissed through shut teeth. Nobody heard him. His roommates had already left.

The pain forced him to roll onto his back. His nails dug into the carpeted floor. That was when he heard the voice. A small, weak voice in the back of his head; he could hardly hear it. "Let me out…" The voice begged, and every time it talked Voldemort felt the pain again. "Let me out!" it screamed. Voldemort let out a small scream. Why was the voice so damn loud? It echoed through his head, ripping at his sanity.

"Who are you?" He yelled at the empty room. He hoped nobody would walk in at the moment and see him like this. That was the last thing he needed.

"Get out of my body!" it yelled, leading to another wave of agony. How did that make any sense? This was his body…

His eyes snapped open as he finally put the pieces together. "Draco…" he whispered. With this revelation came the understanding of what he had to do. He stretched his hand out, grasping the edge of the trunk.

"What are you doing?" Draco's voice asked; as Voldemort threw open the lid so hard it slammed against the bed. He collapsed again, even this little bit of work almost too much to bear. Regaining his breath, Voldemort pulled himself up by one hand and peered inside his trunk. There it was. He could see it. He reached out shaking fingers and closed them around a velvet bag huddled in the corner.

"Get out of my trunk! Who are you? Why do you have my stuff?" Voldemort felt his arms go weak, and he hit his chin on the edge of the trunk. His jaw was on fire and had its own little heartbeat. "Don't scream…you are stronger than this. You're Lord Voldemort." He muttered to himself.

"Vole-Voldemort?" Draco's voice shook. He must have just realized who exactly was possessing him.

Feeling some control come back, Voldemort let his fingers tips search for the bag that he had dropped. Where was it!

There. He pushed open the bag and grabbed the small vial inside. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Shut up, Draco!" It took all of Voldemort's willpower not to claw his own face off. This shouldn't be happening. But he was weak, both mentally and physically, and he couldn't get his mind to force the young boy back.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and brought the vial to his lips. Pain again. The vial almost slipped from his fingers. "My Lord, what's going on?"

It was too much. Voldemort could find the strength to move anymore. Luckily for him, at that moment Crabbe and Goyle came in and saw him shaking and sweating, leaning against his trunk.

"Draco, what's wrong?" They ran over and bent down to his level, confusion on their faces.

"Just…let me drink the potion." Crabbe saw what he was talking about and took the vial from his hand.

"You want me to…?" he asked, his fat face scrunched together.

"Pour the potion in my mouth, you idiot! Before I decide to kill both of you!" Crabbe hurriedly obeyed and when the cool, light potion that smelled of blankets and softness touched his lips, the pain retreated and Draco's voice was silenced. Voldemort breathed deeply.

"Draco, what just happened?" Goyle asked, helping Voldemort stand up and lead him over to his bed. Normally Voldemort would have hated to be lead around like a child, but right now he was too weak to care.

"It's nothing. Just get me something to eat." He was starving. He had thrown up all the food he had eaten in the past few days. Crabbe and Goyle knew it was not their place to pry further. He was staring at his lap when a chocolate frog was shoved into his hand. Without hesitation he ripped the wrapper in half and hungrily bit the frog's head off. Chocolate never before tasted so good.

In three seconds flat the only thing left of the candy was Voldemort's chocolate stained fingers. Satisfied, at least for the moment, he fell back onto the bed. He could not allow Draco to attempt to take control again. He was lucky this time it was Crabbe and Goyle who had found him. Anyone else would have gone straight to Dumbledore.

"You're sure you're alright?" It seemed as if Crabbe and Goyle actually cared deeply for their friend's well-being.

"Peachy," was the sarcastic answer they received.

"Listen, Draco, dinner is starting soon. We should probably head down." Voldemort nodded in agreement. He got to his feet and stumbled on his first few steps. Crabbe and Goyle came forward to help, but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "I can walk on my own."

He took his wand and waved it, clearing the blood off his face. Without a word he left the dormitory and headed to dinner, Crabbe and Goyle following cautiously behind him.

Ten minutes later Voldemort sat in front of a big plate of food, digging in feverishly. He ignored Pansy's attempts to find out where he had been all day. If it was all the same he'd rather keep that a secret.

True to his word, Dumbledore had not allowed Potter to leave the hospital wing, as the boy was absent from the Gryffindor table. Gryffindor's up and down the table were asking where in the world Harry Potter had gone off to now. Of course, the Granger girl and Weasley were the ones who were bombarded by the questions. They did their best to answer, while at the same time shooting death glares at Voldemort. Somehow, they had found a way to blame him.

"Draco, why are you so hungry?" Pansy asked, dragging him back into a conversation he didn't want to take part in. He didn't answer, and instead took a bite out of his third roll, hoping she would just give up. But instead she pressed on.

"I worry about you, Draco." She reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

Voldemort's muscles bunched under her grip and suddenly she shrieked and let go. Her hand was a shiny red. "You- you burnt me!" she all but screamed. The whole hall turned towards the Slytherin table wondering what all the commotion was about. Pansy had stood up now, clutching her arm like it was about to fall off. Tears ran down her face. "Draco, how could you?"

All eyes were on him. He had just preformed wand less magic. And the look on Dumbledore's face showed that he knew it. Voldemort stood up and left the hall as fast as possible.

But he didn't head back to the Slytherin common room. Instead he headed to his own special place on the fifth floor. He walked past an expanse of wall three times, and thought desperately about where he wanted to be. And suddenly there was a door.

The door opened for him and inside there was an almost exact replica of his old room at the orphanage. It was small, with just a bed, a drawer, and a dresser. There was only one window. He sunk down onto the bed, even though it was much too small for him. As if to make him more comfortable the bed grew, till it was the perfect length. He sighed and let his head be swallowed up by the pillow. He was safe, of that he was sure. Dumbledore didn't know about this place. Memories came back. Memories of all the days he had done just this. The days before Hogwarts; before magic.

And as if to remind him even more a full length mirror appeared right next to his bed. But Draco Malfoy wasn't reflected in the glass. No, instead there was young Tom Riddle lying on the bed in the mirror, looking tired and defeated. Voldemort sat up and took in this new reflection. He hadn't looked like this in so long.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring at his young self, lost in thought, but when he looked again at the window, it was very dark. Voldemort would've have gone to the common room, but he had things to do, and here it was quiet and empty. He looked around. 'Now I just need somewhere to write.' He thought. The room answered, and a writing desk appeared, equipped with parchment, quills, and a bottle of ink.

After much crossing out and many failed attempts, Voldemort finally managed to write the perfect letter to his Death Eaters, demanding three more attacks before he visited them on Sunday, and reminding them to make sure both Narcissa and Lucius were not present when he returned. He folded together and placed it in a nice dark blue envelope that would blend in nicely with the night sky so nobody would know the owl had a letter, and that it would therefore not be intercepted.

He was sad to leave his sanctuary, but he had to send the letter. Saying goodbye, at least for now, he made his way silently to the Owlery. He knew without checking the time that it was past 8:00, and if he was caught he would be in big trouble. Well, at least more trouble than he was already in.

The stairs seemed to go on forever and each step seemed like a task. He had not been able to eat much at dinner and his empty stomach protested louder with every flight of stairs. But Voldemort forged on, determined to finish at least one task during that crazy day. He could hardly believe this was only the second day of school.

At last arriving at the Owlery he found that he was not the only one there. Somebody else was near one of the windows, whispering to a snowy owl that was perched on a window. It was dark, so the person was hidden in shadow. Voldemort decided to go about his regular business and ignore the other person in the room.

The large grey owl that had delivered the poisoned sweets swooped down and landed on his outstretched arm. This owl was serious and stuffy, very unlike the snowy owl on the window edge, which nipped affectionately at its owner's fingers. Voldemort mentally berated himself for even recognizing the fact that the other student was there. He had better things to do.

He chose a sill four windows away from the other student, and let the owl hop onto the ledge. It stuck out its leg stiffly, and waited impatiently for him to attach his letter so it could leave. He was just about to tie the last knot when a voice stopped him.

"Draco? Is that you?"

Voldemort turned his head and saw Harry Potter's green eyes staring at him. "Potter," He nodded curtly and focused back on the owl. "I wasn't aware you were let out of the Hospital wing."

"I wasn't." Harry laughed. "But I have better things to do than sit in a bed all day. Madam Pomfery doesn't know I'm gone. I told her I wanted to be left alone for a bit, and pulled the curtains around my bed. I managed to sneak out when she was healing Pansy who came in with a brunt hand."

"Congratulations on sneaking away from the nurse." Voldemort said, pretending to be extremely interested in the string around the owl's leg. He hadn't counted on the boy being here.

"Yeah…well, before I left, I heard Pansy telling Madam Pomfery…that you were the one who burnt her." The boy's eyes searched him, trying to see if this was true or not.

Voldemort sighed. "I did." He looked at Potter, whose eyes had gone wide. "Not on purpose. It just kind of happened."

"How does that kind of thing just happen?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Pansy was annoying me. I guess my magic just sort of reacted when she grabbed my arm." A sort of understanding seemed to pass over the boy's face. He nodded.

"So… you're feeling better?" Voldemort asked in a poor attempt to change the subject.

"No…not really," Harry grimaced, clutching his side. "But staying in the Hospital wing isn't helping. All Madam Pomfery's potions do is leave a bad taste in my mouth. I think I'll just let it heal by itself."

"But what if it gets worse?" Voldemort was wondering exactly what the boy was thinking. If the wounds opened up again he would be in big trouble. The Hospital wing was the best place for him. Not that Voldemort cared for Potter's well-being. He just didn't want the boy to die before he had a chance to go through with the plan. The-boy-who-lived would die at his hand only.

"I deal with that if it happens." Harry said, and shrugged his shoulders, though Voldemort could see worry on his face.

"Who are you sending a letter too?" This time it was Harry who had changed the subject. His brow crinkled. "And why that color?"

"My parents. They want me to write to them. I guess their worried or something." He finished tying the knot and finally pushed the owl a little to get it to go. The owl spread its wings and took off. You could see the owl in the sky, but as Voldemort had hoped, the letter was not visible. "I'd rather it not be intercepted."

Harry turned to his own letter that was still in his hand and frowned. "It doesn't matter either way…they already think I'm crazy." He muttered to himself, maybe thinking that Voldemort couldn't hear.

He too, finally tied the letter to his owl, which rubbed its head against its master's chest, before it took off, soaring elegantly into the night.

Harry gave him one more glance, and left, limping slightly as he walked away.

When Voldemort was sure the boy was gone he went over to the window and scanned the sky for Harry's owl. There it was. He took out his wand and took aim carefully. The spell hit the snow colored bird, which spun around and headed straight back to him.

When it landed, the bird was confused and angry, so when Voldemort reached out for the letter attached to its leg; it nipped his finger and drew blood. Cursing the bloody owl, and sucking on his finger, Voldemort managed to take the letter. The owl flew up into the rafters, still very disoriented and mad.

The front of the letter said, very simply: Snuffles. Voldemort raised an eyebrow. Who in the world was Snuffles?

He opened the letter one handed, and began to read.

_Dear Sirius,_

_I know this is stupid. You're dead. I must be crazy to be writing a letter to a dead person. But I have no one else to turn to. Remus is okay, but it's not easy to talk to him. Not like with you._

_I'm worried, Sirius. I haven't told anyone, but…I had these horrible dreams over the summer. Voldemort keeps sending them to me. These are worse than the others. A lot worse. I just can't stand it. He keeps talking to me in my mind. He's going to find me. I know he is. Dumbledore's not even denying it anymore. I guess the only thing I can do is be prepared for when he does._

_Draco Malfoy's been acting weird lately. I can't tell if he's faking or is actually starting to be…nice? I know it's weird right? I bet its Voldemort's doing. Best if I ignore him like always. Although he did get me an "O" in potions… No, probably should still be wary. Like Mad-eye always says, "Constant vigilance!"_

_What am I doing? It's stupid to write a letter to you. You're dead. Gone. Who's going to get this letter anyway? I didn't tell Hedwig to give it to anyone. Where will she go?_

_I miss you, Sirius. I really do. We were so close to living together. Damn Wormtail. I swear next time I see him…_

_Anyway, I guess this is goodbye. I suppose this letter is just for me to feel connected to you somehow. A way to forget about everything for a while. Dumbledore hasn't reassured me at all. My scar's been hurting a lot lately. It's hard to explain… it's almost like Voldemort's in the school. But he can't be, right?_

_Feeling very stupid at the moment,_

_Harry_

When Voldemort came to the end of the letter he smiled. Anybody else would have seen this letter a signal that Harry needed help. Voldemort however, saw the information on the parchment as a big advantage over the boy.

Potter still missed his poor godfather? Seems like the Dark Lord had found out Harry Potter's biggest weakness.

Voldemort folded the letter back into the envelope and called to the owl up in the rafters. Much to his surprise the owl came and landed on his arm, digging its claws into his arm. He tied the letter back onto its leg and said, "As you were." The owl seemed to glare at him, seeming to understand that he had just invaded its master's privacy, and then flew out the window, continuing its journey.

Voldemort had a pretty good feeling about who would receive the letter. If his calculations were correct…

This was going to be very interesting.


	8. A bad day

Wednesday was a rather normal day for Voldemort. Actually, it was a rather good day. He had not sent dreams to Potter the night before, seeing as the boy had enough to deal with at the moment. He had awoken relaxed and rested, though very hungry.

At breakfast he had a big bowl of Fairy O's and three pieces of toast. He sat alone at the table, as all the other Slytherins had scooted away from him when he had first come in. They shot glances at him; as if afraid he would explode. In fact the whole hall regarded him cautiously. Voldemort didn't mind, however. In fact he rather enjoyed it. There were no questions, no students who talked about things he could care less about. He had a whole table to himself, and all the food he could eat. His stomach thanked him for this.

Pansy was also avoiding him, her hand wrapped in gauze, telling anyone who would listen about how evil Draco Malfoy was.

His classes went by fast and without incident, except for the occasional question of where he had been the day before, and why in the world he had burnt Pansy Parkinson. He chose to ignore all these questions, and eventually everyone left him alone. Even the teachers were uneasy. Although they couldn't hide their astonishment at how advanced Draco Malfoy had become in their classes. He managed to get forty more points for Slytherin over the course of the day, which made most of his house mates like him again, and call Pansy a cry baby behind her back.

Voldemort saw Harry only twice that day, and each time the boy did not look good. He limped slightly, and was incredibly pale. Voldemort had no idea how Potter could have possibly convinced Madam Pomfrey to let him out of the hospital wing. Never mind Dumbledore. He saw Potter occasionally take a potion from his bag and drink it down, making a grimace appear on his face. No doubt Madam Pomfrey's orders. He didn't feel too bad for the boy, due to that fact that the side of his face was still a noticeable purple color.

He had a quiet lunch, but by dinner almost all the Slytherins had forgiven him, and he was back to the loud, annoying table he had come to hate. And breakfast had been so nice…

When the noise became too much, Voldemort left. He ran to his dormitory and grabbed a few poisoned candies from the stash in his trunk. He snuck into each of the Slytherin dormitories, and placed the sweets in each of them. It was a great way to test both the potions and the intelligence of his fellow Slytherins. Who knows, maybe a few of them could be future Death Eaters.

Homework was done in thirty minutes flat. Voldemort felt pretty good about himself. He spent the rest of the night laying on his bed and just relaxing, soaking up the free time. He would visit his Death Eaters on Sunday and see if they were following his orders. He just had to make it to Sunday. Three more days…he could handle three days.

He could make it if he survived the meeting with Dumbledore. The headmaster was suspicious, that was for sure. Dumbledore had been watching him like a hawk all day. It was really was bothering him. Hopefully it would all be cleared up tomorrow.

He had sent dreams to Potter and was about to go to sleep, as all his other roommates already were, but there was a pounding on the window. He looked and saw that a small gray owl, no bigger than his fist, was slamming itself against the glass.

Before it woke anyone, Voldemort pulled the window open and the owl came flying in. It was very hyper, and zoomed around his head. He snatched the letter off its leg rather roughly, and saw Draco's name written in…well it couldn't be Harry Potter's handwriting? He ripped the letter open, and began to read.

_Draco,_

_I guess this is kind of awkward, but I've been noticing how well you've been doing in Potion's class and I was wondering if…maybe you could tutor me? I dead awful at Potions and if I don't do well in Snape's classes… it won't exactly end well. You don't have to agree. It's just that my only other option is Snape and, you know, he hates my guts. Send me a letter if you agree. If not…whatever._

_Harry_

Voldemort smiled at this new piece of information. Potter needed a tutor? And was asking him, of all people? This was definitely a step in the right direction. He grabbed a quill and hurriedly scribbled an answer on the back, asking if Saturday was okay. This was a perfect opportunity to get closer to Potter, find out his fears and weaknesses. The little owl was still flying around his head, apparently delighted that it had successfully delivered a letter. Voldemort attempted to grab at it, but the owl remained out of his reach. After a couple of curse words and five more failed attempts, Voldemort finally pulled out his wand and shot a spell at the flying ball of feathers. The owl spun out of control and landed on his bed in a heap.

Before it could fly away Voldemort quickly tied the letter to its leg. The owl stood up and huffed at him, shooting him a tiny glare. It raised its wings and fluttered over to the window. "Give this to Harry Potter." The owl seemed to nod, then flew off, bobbing slightly from the weight of the letter.

With that done, Voldemort fell back on his bed, a small smile on his face. Things were looking up. Maybe, just maybe, this whole plan would work out…

Thursday, on the other hand, was not a good day. Not at all.

It all started at breakfast. A lot of the Slytherin's were missing. Voldemort knew why. They must be in the hospital wing, getting over the effects of the candies. This only confirmed his belief that this generation had seriously gone to the dogs.

Voldemort was picking at a large plate of eggs, no longer hungry, when suddenly his head was shoved forward, causing him to be forced face first into the plate. He was shocked for a minute, wondering who in the world had the nerve to do that to him. He lifted up his face, egg falling off it. The whole Slytherin table was dead silent as he turned his head to face the person who had done it. The Weasley twins smiled down at him with identical smiles. They both laughed at the sight of his face. "Looks nearly as bad as mine did when he jinxed me, doesn't it, George?" One asked, supposedly Fred, looking Voldemort up and down.

"I'd say worse, Fred, given that fact that those bruises are still on his face. Actually, I think the egg is an improvement to his regular features. Really makes his eyes pop." The other said. They glanced at each other for a second, and then broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

"How dare you, you little blood traitors!" Voldemort stood up, trying to look threatening despite the yellow eggs coating his face. His hand gripped the wand inside his robes, itching to cast the torture curse on both of them for daring to do such a thing. To him nonetheless!

"Somebody's a little angry. Nobody likes a pissed ferret." The Slytherin's at the table giggled behind their hands, trying to hide the fact that they were laughing. Why was everyone constantly calling him a ferret?

Before Voldemort could come up with a retort, Professor Snape had made his way over, looking down his hooked nose at the three of them. "Is there a problem here?" He questioned, taking in the Weasley twins' guilty expressions. Nobody said a word, afraid of the consequences. "No? Then I suggest you two leave." Fred and George hurriedly walked away back to the Gryffindor table, still chuckling slightly.

"Five points from Slytherin for causing a disruption, Mr. Malfoy." Snape added, and then he too walked away, leaving Voldemort to sit back down, confused and angry at what had just happened. He wiped the food off his face and glowered the rest of breakfast, mad at the world.

There was no problem throughout his first two classes, and Voldemort assumed that everything had returned to normal. Potions class proved him wrong.

He was sitting with Potter, who had decided he was too tired to do anything that day. While Potter slept, not caring whether or not Snape saw, Voldemort was working on a paralyzing potion that rendered the drinker immobile for two hours to three days, depending on how you made it. Things were going well. It wasn't an overly complicated potion, although for incompetent sixth years it could be very difficult. He was on one of the more time consuming steps; chopping the eel liver into exact lengths. It took a lot of concentration, so he noticed when Pansy Parkinson walked by his table, but he didn't notice that she dropped something in his potion. When he was finished he took the freshly cut pieces of liver and dropped them into the now bubbling liquid. Suddenly the potion started steaming and pouring over the edges. "What?" Voldemort said, attempting to get the potion under control. The whole class turned to look at him as the potion began foaming and the cauldron started shaking. Had he done something wrong?

Snape was rushing over, an annoyed look on his face. Voldemort was perfectly happy with waiting for him to sort out this whole mess, except that was when the potion gave one last rumble and exploded all over his face. He screamed as the boiling liquid hit his skin, burning him. He was blinded, and stumbled around, hitting tables and knocking other potions to the ground. A hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to stop. Somebody was rubbing a rag across his face, wiping away the potion.

He blearily opened his eyes, his vision fuzzy at first. People were crowded around him, whispering. When his vision cleared, he realized it was Snape that had his hand on his shoulder, preventing him from hurting himself. "Draco, are you alright?" A tall boy with black hair asked. He couldn't recall the name.

"What?" Voldemort muttered, still confused and disoriented. There was more muttering from the crowd of Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Why do you all keep whispering?" He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, trying to keep the migraine that was forming at bay. More whispers.

"Look at his hair…"

"I know! It looks so weird…"

"He doesn't even know…"

"Do you see his eyes?"

"What are you talking about?" He yelled, angry at being kept in the dark. Snape guided him over to a desk and made him sit down. A mirror was handed to him. He looked into and saw what everyone was talking about. His hair was a bright blue.

He stood up knocking the chair to the ground and glared at everyone in the room. "Who did this?" He hissed. The students shrunk back at the furious expression on his face. Snape removed the hand from his shoulder. Voldemort tried to calm himself, like he had done these past three days, but he couldn't. This was too much. A line had been crossed.

"I don't know why you are blaming others, Mr. Malfoy. You made the potion. It's your own fault." Snape accused, enjoying the opportunity to make fun of him.

Then somebody spoke up. Somebody Voldemort hadn't expected to hear. "It wasn't Draco's fault." Harry came forward, yawning slightly and limping. "Pansy put something in his cauldron. I saw it."

"I did not!" Pansy shrieked. "You little liar. Who's going to believe you? You were sleeping the whole class!" The Slytherin's nodded in agreement.

"I will determine who's lying, Mrs. Parkinson. Mr. Malfoy's potion is sure to shed some light this argument." He went over to Voldemort's table and looked inside the cauldron. All the students watched with bated breath, waiting for the result. Snape's face crinkled in anger. He used his wand to levitate something out. It was a candy, melted and burnt, barely recognizable.

"Somebody did put this candy in this potion. Now the only question is who. Anyone want to come forward?" Snape's gaze swept the room, looking for a guilty face, a sideward glance.

Harry sighed. "I already told you, Professor. Pansy did it." Snape turned on him, a sneer on his face.

"Hold your tongue, Potter, or I will put you in detention for so long it will be Christmas when you come out. Understand?" Harry looked like he wanted to say more, but remained silent.

Snape looked back in the cauldron. "Well what do we have here?" A burnt and charred piece of metal was levitated out. It sparkled slightly. There was a gasp. A girl with black hair and freckles turned on Pansy. "That's my bracelet. I let you borrow it! How could you do that to Draco, Pansy?"

Pansy grabbed her wrist, finally realizing what wasn't there anymore. "But I didn't! I swear!" All eyes were on her. Voldemort should have known. That annoying little girl had wanted revenge. That stupid, stupid little girl.

"You did this to me?" His shout echoed around the room. "You made me look like this?" He stalked closer to her and pulled out his wand. All the other students backed up. They had seen firsthand how good he had become at magic. They didn't want to see how he got when he was mad. And he was mad alright. Really mad.

Pansy was slowly walking away as Voldemort got closer. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at her face. His lips were forming words that would ruin the whole plan, but before he could utter them some brave soul grabbed his arm and lowered it. "It's not worth it, Draco." Harry said. Voldemort took some deep breathes, staring at the floor. He had almost lost it. He had almost destroyed everything. How could he be so stupid?

Pansy took this opportunity to run out of the room. The class immediately broke out in mutters and excited chatter. Snape dismissed the class, all except Voldemort and Harry. Ron and Hermione stood in the doorway like they were going to wait there for Harry. Hermione had a look on her face that clearly said that she, Ron, and Harry seriously needed to have a talk. "Ms. Granger, , wait outside." Snape ordered. Ron tugged on Hermione's shoulder, slowly guiding her back. She batted his hand off of her. "No, Ron, I want to know what in the world is going on here. I'm staying." Rolling his eyes, Snape waved his wand and the doors slammed shut mere inches from her face.

"Sit."

Voldemort and Harry obeyed. Snape placed his hands on the desk they were sitting at and inspected the both of them. "You're behavior in my class has been unacceptable. You, Potter, are constantly falling asleep in my class. And you, Malfoy, are disrupting all the time. I would love to put you two in detention. Unfortunately, you are both having a meeting with Dumbledore in the next few days. He doesn't think it…prudent to give you punishments just yet." Snape seemed really put out at this. "But I warn you. If you both continue to act this way, no matter what the headmaster says, I will punish you as I see fit. Understand?" They both nodded.

"Severus, is there any way you can fix my hair?" Voldemort asked, running at hand through it. He couldn't possibly walk around all day like this. He looked ridiculous. He didn't notice at first that he had called Snape by his first name.

The Potions Master's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You mean your hair _and _your eyes, correct?"

Voldemort gave him a confused look. "What about my eyes?" He hadn't noticed anything different about his eyes.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't notice that they're red?"

Then it hit him. His eyes must have changed back to their original color in his anger. "Oh, of course. That too…it's just that the blue is more noticeable… you know…" Both of their stares were on him.

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. That was caused by a potion, not by magic. It should wear off in about a day or two. Now, leave. You're going to be late to lunch." Harry stood up, ready to go.

"But…come on, you ought to be able to do something!" Voldemort begged. He hated doing it, but he was desperate. He didn't know how to fix it himself. He was adept at potions, sure, but when he came to side effects, well, he was close to clueless.

"Leave, Mr. Malfoy." Voldemort glared for a second, his gaze connecting with Snape's. Nobody moved. Voldemort could see the questions in the professor's eyes, the suspicion that something wasn't right. Snape's eyes went widened slightly, and his cool exterior slipped a bit. His mouth opened like he was about to say something, except that was the moment Harry decided to throw open the door really loud. His friends were gone, so he headed off to lunch by himself. Voldemort stood up and with a curt nod to Snape, followed after Harry.

Lunch did absolutely nothing to brighten his mood. Not only did people constantly comment on his hair and eyes, which he had left red to avoid suspicion; he also received a bit of news that he really wasn't prepared for. Halfway through, a rather tall and strong looking Slytherin boy came over to him. Now while his appearance was sort of off-putting, he was actually quite nice. "Should I ask?" He said, a certain happiness in his eyes, looking at Voldemort's bright blue hair.

"No…It'd be better if you didn't." He tried to remember if he had seen this boy before, in the common room or in any of the classes. He must be a seventh year.

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to remind you that Quidditch practice is today at 5:00 till 6:30. Gotta get ready for that match against Gryffindor. I want to win this year. Montague was just dragging us down. He didn't have any idea what he was doing. But I'm gonna take us all the way. Hufflepuff's no problem, Raven claw's are more thinkers than players…our only competition is Gryffindor. They got Potter. Man, he's a good seeker. But, hey! We got you, don't we? You'll do great, I just know it. We just gotta work out a few kinks and bam! You'll be as good as him. Maybe better. You got potential. A lot of potential. I'm telling you, Draco, we're gonna win." Voldemort stared blankly throughout this whole speech. He had understood about five words the boy had said. The only thing he had grasped was that Draco was a seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch and that he was now Draco. He was going to have to play Quidditch, a sport he so despised.

"What?" He said, probably sounding slightly dumb.

"Sorry if I was rambling. I tend to do that a lot. Anyway, I guess my main point was we have practice today at five, so be there. Luckily this year we can still have almost exactly the same team from last year, so we don't have to have tryouts. Great, huh? Tryouts are too much of a hassle in my opinion. Wastes precious practice time. And truthfully we need all the practice time we can get. No offense, but…" He leaned in close and whispered. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't the best Beaters in the world."

Voldemort had no idea what to say to that. He didn't speak Quidditch. He could only nod dumbly. "Great!" The boy slapped him on the shoulder, causing him to be pushed forward slightly. "And you Crabbe and Goyle. Make sure you guys are there too." They nodded also.

"Hey, Urquhart! Come sit over here!" A girl waved at him from four tables away.

"Looks like I gotta go. See you guys at 5:00!" He walked away, leaving Voldemort very lost and confused. Draco was on the Quidditch team? Why hadn't he been informed? He couldn't play Quidditch! And what was a seeker?

"I have to play Quidditch…?" He whispered, trying to take it in.

"Yeah, sucks don't it?" Crabbe said through a mouthful of food. "I bet he's going to be worse than Montague with practicing. Last year was terrible, remember? Makes me wonder why we ever joined the team in the first place, right Goyle?" Goyle shrugged, too focused on the food in front of him to give a response. Voldemort massaged his temples, leaning on the table with his elbows. This couldn't be true, could it? He hadn't signed up to play Quidditch. That had not been part of the plan at all. Well, a lot of the past few days hadn't been part of the plan…but still. This was all going wrong.

"Draco, you alright? That potion didn't mess with your head, did it?"

"No, no I'm fine." He stood up. "I'm just going to hang out in the common room till classes start. See you later." He turned and walked towards the doors. Eyes followed him the whole way, along with whispers. He had gotten used to it by now.

Back in the common room, he tore through Draco's trunk, tossing stuff around the room. He found what he was looking for. Draco's broom and been shrunken down so that it fit in his palm. He could just make out the brand. A Fire Bolt. He had no idea whether it was good or bad. In fact he knew next to nothing about broomsticks or Quidditch. How did you even play?

More digging revealed a Slytherin green Quidditch uniform. Voldemort held it up to himself, examining it. "Am I really going to have to wear this?" He asked himself. But he would. That is, he would if he wanted to plan to work. This was the thing that really made him hesitate. Surely the plan wasn't worth it. Him, play Quidditch? It sounded ridiculous.

What did he have to gain?

He recalled the dream about the graveyard and how Potter had looked, withering and screaming on the ground in agony. Oh yes…the screaming. That beautiful sound. He so desperately wanted to hear it again. He had felt so powerful… That settled it. He was going to play.

After cleaning up he found a Quidditch book at the bottom of Draco's trunk and spent the rest of his classes reading up on the sport while ignoring jokes and taunts about his hair and eyes. The whole thing sounded idiotic. What exactly was the whole point of this game? If the snitch could win the whole game, why did only one person on each team go after it? The chasers weren't necessary. They were more distraction than anything. Apparently the whole game was either won or lost based on the ability of the Seeker. That was just great. Urquhart was wrong. There was no way they would win.

After classes when he still had about an hour till practice, he headed to the library with the shrunken down broom and the Quidditch robes to see if he could find any more information about the sport. That part was easy. The library had a whole section dedicated to Quidditch. He spent his remaining time scanning books and learning everything he possible could.

At a quarter to five he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, going over everything he had learned in his head. Seven players...two beaters, one keeper, one seeker, and three chasers. The snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points. When the snitch was caught the game was over. It was the job of the seeker to catch the snitch, which was a tiny metal ball with wings that flew so fast it was almost impossible to see. Beaters deflected Bludgers so they didn't injure other players. Chasers scored points by throwing the Quaffle through one of the three goals at each end of the field. Keepers had to protect the goals. That was the basic play of the whole game. At least he knew somewhat of what he would be doing.

He wasn't happy to learn, however, that not only did the seeker have the most difficult position on the team; it also had the most dangerous. All the other players on the opposite team did everything in their power to put the seeker on the enemy's team out of commission. Bludgers seemed intent on killing the seekers. This was just great. Draco just had to be a seeker. He couldn't be a chaser or a keeper, something that seemed less difficult.

Voldemort continued his trudge down to the locker room, mulling this all over in his head. It was definitely not going to be easy. What he was most worried about, however, was whether he would even be able to stay on the broom.

When he arrived, the locker room was crowded. The first thing he noticed was that there were no girls. The whole team turned when he entered. There was laughing from a few, but most kept silent as he made his way over to the bathroom where he could change into the Quidditch robes. He closed the door and pulled the robes over his head. The robes were surprisingly comfortable, falling around him softly and smoothly. He assumed that they would be perfect for a seeker, making them lightweight and therefore faster. After changing he sat on a bench and waited for something to happen. Crabbe and Goyle joined him shortly and he took part in a conversation that he wasn't even paying attention too. What happened next? Surely they didn't sit here for the whole practice.

Five minutes passed and Voldemort was growing a bit impatient. Luckily for everyone, Urquhart came in at that moment in his captain robes, smiling. How was this boy in Slytherin? He seemed much too happy.

Immediately complaints started. "Why do we have to practice in our uniforms? Mines all itchy." Said one chaser.

"It's only the first week of school. It's too early to be having practices. Montague had the decency to wait till the second week at least." Complained another.

"I'm tired."

There were mutters of agreement to this last statement. Urquhart chuckled, this whole scene not seeming to bother him. "My fellow teammates, I know you want to win as much as I do. Or have you forgotten that Gryffindor's been kicking our arse for the past five years?" The team looked shameful at these words. "We've got to practice. I want to take home the cup this year. The Quidditch cup and maybe even the House cup. You know how much a points winning a match is worth. We have to step up or game. I've come up with quite a few new strategies that we can use." He walked away and came back with a board with was covered in X's, O's, and lines. Urquhart proceeded to explain all the types of moves and techniques they could use in upcoming games. He explained that the X's were them and that the O's were the other team. He talked with enthusiasm about the sport, so much so that it annoyed Voldemort. How could he possibly be so excited about a sport as trivial as Quidditch?

Urquhart spent a good forty five minutes on the subject strategies, and Voldemort felt his eyelids begin to droop. He wasn't the only one. Most of the team had given up listening already and were having whispered conversations or falling asleep. Urquhart didn't seem to notice. He finally wrapped up his long and tedious speech with the words, "Let's fly!"

There were cheers. The team nearly ran over each other in their haste to get outside. Without hesitation they hopped on their assorted brooms and took to the sky. Only Voldemort remained on the ground, unsure of what to do. Did you give the broom and command or something? Or did it just go? He held it tightly in his hand and looked to see if he could figure out how the others were doing it.

One Slytherin he did recognize was Vaisey, who sat near him at lunch. Vaisey seemed to be a natural, swooping in and out of goal posts; surpassing much of the team in skill and speed. Surely it couldn't be all that hard? He stood there for about five minutes, clutching his broomstick, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. Unfortunately, luck didn't favor the Dark Lord.

"Draco!" Urquhart halted in the air and gestured at him to come up. "You coming?"

Voldemort shook himself. He had to focus! "Yeah, be there in a second." He hesitantly placed one leg over the side of the broom. He felt so stupid. Placing his hands around the handle, he jumped a bit and took off into the air. Wind slammed him in the face, making him choke. He was battered left and right, the broom totally out of his control. He screamed for all he was worth. He must have circled the pitch eight times before his broom made a drastic turn downwards. The ground came closer and closer, till Voldemort could brush the ground with his nose. Out of seer panic, he pulled up, righting himself. Impressed with his skill and happy that he hadn't been killed; Voldemort didn't notice the goal post till it was too late.

The impact was all very quick. It didn't hurt at first. His head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground, still numb. Blackness clouded his vision for a moment. Footsteps were all around him. His vision flickered back on when he was shaken roughly. Urquhart was standing over him, looking worried. Voices came to him as if through a thick fog. "Draco, are you alright?" Was he alright? No, no, he wasn't. There was a ringing in his ears. Stabbing pain hit his skull. God, it hurt. His eyes rolled to each of the faces around him. From the looks on their faces his condition must be bad. He had to assure them otherwise. Hopefully the color of his hair would hide the blood that he felt on the back of his head.

Although he was disgusted by being touched by teenagers, he allowed them to pull him to his feet. While keeping himself from throwing up, he convinced them (with a little magic), that he was fine and just needed to rest in the locker room for a bit. He waited for them to be back up in the air before he stumbled to the locker room, struggling to keep from passing out. His sense of direction was thrown off, and it took him a good ten minutes to find the door. Then he had to open it.

Dizzy and hurt Voldemort lurched over to the mirror. The reflection he saw was not pretty. Blood dripped from his hair and left streaks down his face. It was bad. Really bad. But nothing he couldn't fix.

A shaking hand pulled out his wand and pointed it at him. '_Calm yourself…put the pain away…you've done it before…' _The hand stopped shaking and he managed to heal his various injuries. His hands gripped the sink as he vomited; pulling every bit of food he had eaten out of him for the umpteenth time in two days. Empty and humiliated, Voldemort walked to the castle, intent on making it to Dumbledore's office and getting the whole thing over with. Who cared if he was early? Not him, that was for sure. He was tired of everything. He would not take it any longer. Hogwarts better watch out for a new and improved Draco Malfoy, and a very pissed Dark Lord.

**Alright, so here's the deal. I have about two more story ideas that i will post soon. One of the ideas is on my profile if you wish to check it out and let me know what you think. The poll is still open and the results so far are that I will update: Truth, A taste of Blood, and The Trouble with Twins. Again, they will be the ones updated more often than the others if they get the most votes. If you are not pleased with this, please vote or message me, or leave it in your review. So please vote and check out my new story idea, "In the eyes of a Child". And please review. If you have any complaints, ideas, suggestions, feel free to put those in a review and I will to the best of my ability respond to you or use you ideas. Thanks:)**


	9. Of punishment and tutoring

**Another chapter for you guys:) Again, please, please review. And again, "Please update" is not a review. If you review, please tell me what you liked, disliked or anything like that. And if you have any suggestions feel free to tell me. It will greatly help with the story. Reviews help me write. Enjoy the chapter:)**

After about ten minutes of walking and hating the world, Voldemort arrived at the Head Master's office. The gargoyles guarding the stair case glared at him as he approached, as if they knew he shouldn't be there. "Password?" One of them asked, his voice low and gruff.

Voldemort took out his wand and flicked it. "Open,"

Both gargoyles eyes went unfocused and they jumped to the side, allowing the wall to open up and the staircase to be revealed. While the two gargoyles were still trying to figure out what had just happened, Voldemort stepped in between them and onto the moving stairs, a scowl still on his face. He crossed his arms and rode the stairs slowly to the landing, where he stepped off. Huge oak doors stood in front of him, towering way above his head. Voldemort recalled the last time he had come to the Head Master's office. He had been looking for a teaching job. And he had been rejected. He frowned. This memory made him angrier.

Voldemort stormed up to the door, wanting to get this whole thing over with as quick as possible so he could go back to the common room. He was going to shove open the doors and enter, but voices stopped him. Someone else was in there with Dumbledore. Voldemort pressed his ear up against the door.

"I can't take it anymore, Dumbledore…" Voldemort's eyes widened. It was Harry's voice. What was he doing in Dumbledore's office? He made sure to listen closely. "He keeps sending me dreams…he keeps torturing me…I haven't slept in two days…I can't close my eyes or he'll show me more visions…"

Voldemort grinned. Harry was losing it. The dreams were working. Then, another voice, Dumbledore's, spoke. "Harry, please, sit down. We will discuss this. That is why you have asked to see me, correct? Now, what visions has he been sending you?"

There was a loud scrape as Harry must have thrown himself down in the chair. "He likes the graveyard dream. It's his favorite. He says he likes to see me so weak…he likes it when I scream. If I don't he just hurts me till I do." Harry's voice shook. "It's not as bad as it was a few days ago, but it still hurts…"

Voldemort saw the perfect opportunity to mess with the boy further. He slipped into Harry's mind and looked out of the boy's eyes. Dumbledore was looking at Harry worriedly. "Does it affect you outside of your dreams?"

Harry shook his head. This is when Voldemort spoke up in Harry's mind. _"Don't lie to him, Harry…don't you remember what happened last night?" _Harry's eyes went wide. "Vol-Voldemort?" he whispered, shrinking back in his seat.

Dumbledore's eyes became hard. "Fight him, Harry. Don't let him in your mind." Harry gripped his head in his hands, shaking.

Voldemort chuckled_. "Tell him, Harry. Tell him how I made you bleed so much you stained your sheets with blood. Tell him how you hid them because you didn't want to appear weak…tell him how you begged me for mercy…" _Tears ran down Harry's face in fear.

"Get out of my mind." Harry demanded, his voice shaking with sobs. Dumbledore stood up and came towards Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder, telling him to be strong.

"_But you haven't screamed yet, Harry"_ He hissed, wrapping around the boy's mind and tightening. _"You know how I love it when you scream." _Harry clawed at his head as Voldemort squeezed tighter. _"Scream for me."_

"Harry, what is he saying?" Dumbledore asked, reaching out for the boy. Harry hit him away. Voldemort loved the look of pain on Harry's face. Yet the boy was still stubborn. He wouldn't scream. That would have to be changed.

"_Scream, Harry, or I will increase this pain tenfold." _Harry shook his head.

Voldemort smiled_. "You have forced my hand. Crucio." _The look of agony that overtook Harry's features was beautiful. He screamed and Voldemort reveled in the wonderful sound. Dumbledore had removed his hand from the boy's shoulders, and instead took Harry's hands, trying to calm him. Harry threw his head back, tears staining his cheeks_. "Very good, Harry. Just a bit louder." _He increased the pain. Harry's whole body shook as his screams reached a whole new pitch. Voldemort shut his eyes and soaked up the suffering, enjoying it while he could. He would not be able to do this all the time or they would think Harry insane and take him away. He couldn't allow that. But here in the privacy of the Headmaster's office it was fine. Only Dumbledore was here to see it.

Finally, after Harry had screamed his throat raw, Voldemort stopped the pain. Harry curled up in a ball, shaking, tears still streaming down his face. Dumbledore tried to comfort the boy, but Harry would have none of it. He shook his head and hugged himself tighter. "What did he say, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"_Tell him, Harry." _Voldemort hissed, grinning at the look of fear on Harry's face.

"H-he tortured me last night…"Harry closed his eyes tightly. "He made me bleed…I-I didn't tell anyone. The sheets are under my bed. I didn't want anyone to see…I'm sorry." Dumbledore walked back to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a light blue potion and gave it to Harry. "Dreamless sleep potion. Drink it before you fall asleep and Voldemort won't be able to send you dreams. I would also recommend that you continue your Occulmency lessons with Professor Snape."

Harry's eyes shot open. "No! I can't do those lessons again. I felt worse after every visit to his office." He looked away from Dumbledore, muttering. "I still think he was opening my mind wider to let V-Voldemort in."

Dumbledore sighed. "Please think about it, Harry. You cannot rely on Dreamless sleep potion. It becomes addictive. If you master Occulmency Voldemort won't be able to get into your mind."

Voldemort chuckled. Dumbledore was such a fool. _"You will never keep me out of your mind, Harry. Dreamless sleep potions and Occulmency will not keep me away. If you even try I will rip your mind to shreds as punishment." _Harry got to his feet a gripped his head.

"Please stop…" Harry begged.

Voldemort decided to humor the boy. "You don't like my company, Harry?" Harry moaned and pushed his head against the wall of Dumbledore's office. _"I will leave then. But I will see you in your dreams tonight. What torture should I use this time, hmmm? Maybe the knifes again…or we could use the whip. I bet those marks are still on your back, aren't they, Harry?"_

"Yes…"Harry cried.

Voldemort loved seeing the boy so weak. _"And they will stay there to remind you of what happens when you disobey me. I know. A few hours under the Cruciatus curse will do perfectly. How does that sound, Harry?" _Voldemort was overjoyed when he discovered that if he wasn't in the dream like he had been on Tuesday, the Cruciatus curse hurt, but it didn't affect the boy as badly as it had outside of the dream. So in dreams, he could use the torture curse on Harry for hours and the boy wouldn't die.

"Please…" The boy sunk to his knees. "Please stop. My head hurts…"

"_Very well, Harry. I will see you tonight."_ After these words, he pulled out of Harry's mind and waited, smirking at his accomplishment of making the boy break down.

After a few seconds, there were footsteps coming closer to the door. "Harry, please stay. I cannot order you to, but I highly recommend it. You and I need to talk about what has just happened."

The footsteps stopped on the other side of the doors. Voldemort backed up because he knew they would open soon. "I…I just need to think about this, Professor. I'll come back some other day if you want me to, but now I just want to be by myself…I'm sorry…" The doors swung out and Harry stepped through, his cheeks stained with tears, looking down at the ground. When he lifted his head, his eyes connected with Voldemort's. He sniffled and wiped at his face. "Saturday, Gryffindor common room, 8:00 am. That fine with you, Malfoy?"

Voldemort nodded. Harry was talking about their tutoring session. "Good," Harry attempted to walk past Voldemort, but the Dark Lord grabbed his shoulder. Harry looked at him, confused. "Do not disobey the Dark Lord. It does not end well." He warned. He could see how visibly shaken the boy was. Hopefully this warning would sink into his mind.

"I can do whatever I want, Malfoy." Harry hit his hand away, got on the moving staircase, and disappeared from sight. Voldemort growled and stepped through the doors and into the Headmaster's office. Tonight he would make the boy suffer horribly for doing that.

Dumbledore had his fingers on his temples as he stared down at his desk, thinking. The old man didn't notice that he was standing there, so he slammed the doors shut loudly. Dumbledore looked up, a bit of hope in his eyes that quickly diminished when he saw who was there. Voldemort knew Dumbledore had been hoping Harry had come back. "Mr. Malfoy…I did schedule our meeting for today, didn't I? Please, have a seat." He gestured to the chair in front of him. Voldemort took a seat and crossed his fingers in his lap. "Would you like some tea? Or maybe pumpkin juice?" Voldemort shook his head and regarded Dumbledore with a steely gaze. No way was he going to be tricked into drinking Veritaserum.

Dumbledore put a small smile on his face. "You're looking very colorful today, Mr. Malfoy." Voldemort frowned. Dumbledore was talking about his blue hair, red eyes, and the yellow bruises that ran up the side of his face. Voldemort narrowed his eyes. At that moment he couldn't help what he looked like.

"Why did you want me here, Headmaster?" He said, his voice dripping with venom.

The smile slipped off. "I wanted to here, Mr. Malfoy; because I believe you are somehow connected to what happened to Mr. Potter on Tuesday. Not to mention the fact that you burned Ms. Parkinson and that you have become exceedingly more advanced in all your classes." Dumbledore paused, surveying Voldemort. "I was hoping you could shed some light on recent events."

Voldemort sighed. He had seen this coming. All his lies had already been planned. "Potter told me the Dark Lord is the one who injured him. I was in the hospital wing because I had a bad dream, fell off the bed, and hit my chin on the bedside table." He took a breath and continued, not giving Dumbledore the chance to speak. "Pansy grabbed my arm. I reacted, took out my wand and burned her. She surprised me." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, waiting for Draco to come up with a reason for the advancement in magic. "My father tutored me over the summer. He thought, since he's a Death Eater and he believes that I will be one too, I should be trained."

Dumbledore considered him suspiciously. "Do you want to be a Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy?"

Voldemort shook his head, making sure not to break eye contact with Dumbledore. "No, Headmaster. I do not." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together.

"When you burned Ms. Parkinson, I didn't see you take out your wand."

"Are you suggesting that I managed to preform wandless magic? Only incredibly powerful wizards can do that, not I." Dumbledore stared and stared, and suddenly a glass paperweight lifted off the table and shot straight at Voldemort's face. He was so surprised by this, that he couldn't stop himself from halting the paperweight in midair before it could hit his face. It fell to the floor. Anger lit up inside Voldemort. Dumbledore had done that on purpose. "What the hell was that for?" He yelled, getting to his feet, for that moment forgetting who he was talking to.

"Mr. Malfoy, please take a seat. There is no need to get all riled up. I was just curious. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't sure. That's another thing you and Mr. Potter have in common." Voldemort fell back in his seat, a little taken aback. Harry could perform wandless magic? That was impossible. He would have noticed. He would have sensed it.

"Potter can do wandless magic? He's never done it before."

Dumbledore seemed hesitant to talk more on the subject. "Mr. Potter doesn't like to talk about it. It has gotten him in trouble more than once. Don't mention I told you. He asked me no to tell anyone." Dumbledore raised his hand and the paper weight flew into it. He placed in gently back on the desk. "We are getting off topic. This is not about Mr. Potter. It is about you and your recent behavior. Professor Snape expressed some…concerns."

"Severus needs to mind his own bloody business…" Voldemort muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore question, his eye brows raised.

"I was just wondering what concerns Professor Snape mentioned." He said. And truthfully, he was. Snape had been acting very odd lately.

"He was concerned, and so am I, that Voldemort has trained you so you can attempt to…well, we both have different theories, but given the events of last year he believes Voldemort wants you to possibly capture Harry Potter and take him back to headquarters ."

Voldemort had to stop himself from smirking. How very wrong they were. "Well you can tell Professor Snape that the Dark Lord would never trust me with a mission like that. He would get my father or even Snape to do it. Potter is much too important to the Dark Lord to give me a mission like that." The mere idea of allowing Draco to try and capture Harry made him want to gag. Trust a child with something so important? Not likely. And if anyone was going to take Harry, it would be him. Harry was his.

Dumbledore didn't talk for a while, just observed Voldemort over the top of his glasses. "Mr. Malfoy, does the Dark Lord send you dreams?" He questioned.

Voldemort placed a slightly scared expression on his face. "He sends them to all of his followers as punishment when they do something wrong. Not as much as he sends them to Potter, but enough that the Death Eaters know to stay in line."

"Do these dreams affect the Death Eaters like they effect Mr. Potter?"

Voldemort shook his head. Only Harry ever suffered lasting effects from the dreams. "No, but I think Potter suffers from them like he does because of the connection between him and the Dark Lord."

Voldemort felt Dumbledore prodding at his mind, trying to find information. He slammed down his walls and pushed the Headmaster out of his mind. If Dumbledore could search his mind for even a minute the old man would know and the plan would be ruined. Dumbledore frowned. "What do you know about the connection between Mr. Potter and Voldemort?"

Considering this question for a moment, Voldemort answered slowly, checking every word he said. "I know that when the Dark Lord gets near Potter, Potter's scar hurts. And I know that the Dark Lord finds it easier to get into Potter's mind than anyone else's. Also…" He wondered if Dumbledore knew about what he was about to say. "I know that, if the Dark Lord wanted to, he could possess Potter at any moment." This was true. He had the ability to possess Potter at any time. But he didn't. When he tried at the Department of Mysteries at first it had gone well and he had been causing Potter such agonizing pain it was beautiful. But then the boy had fought back with happy memories and that pain had been turned back on him. It had been horrible. It wasn't something he wanted to experience again.

Dumbledore nodded and stood. "That is all, Mr. Malfoy. You are free to go. I believe it is almost dinner time. Here," He opened a drawer and shuffled around for a bit. He lifted out a small vial and held it out to Voldemort. "This should help with your hair."

Voldemort took the vial and thanked him curtly. He turned to leave. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes?" Voldemort didn't look back at the Headmaster.

"This may seem a little harsh, but you must understand I am doing what is best for everyone." Dumbledore paused. "I would feel much better if you kept your distance from Mr. Potter."

Voldemort chuckled lowly. He would never stay away from Harry. Not even when he had Harry in his clutches. He didn't tell Dumbledore this of course. "Whatever you say, Dumbledore."

Then he left through the doors on walked onto the moving staircase, leaving Dumbledore to ponder over his answer.

Later, at dinner, while Voldemort was eating everything he could to fill his empty stomach, a question popped into his mind. He looked across the table at Crabbe and Goyle who never seemed to stop eating. He narrowed his eyes. "Crabbe, Goyle," They looked up at him immediately, swallowing whatever food they had in their mouth quickly. "Yeah, Draco?"

He inspected their faces, looking for any sign of deceit. "Did you tell Professor Snape about the plan?"

Their faces fell and they glanced at each other worriedly before looking back at him. "Did you?" Voldemort pressed, his eyes angry. His hand closed around the wand in his pocket.

They gulped. "He asked us yesterday after potions class. We thought, you know, since he's a Death Eater and all, it would be fine to tell him…" Crabbe muttered.

Voldemort struggled to control his anger. "I told you not to tell anyone."

"But he's a Death Eater…shouldn't he know?" Goyle put in. Voldemort got to his feet and the two boys flinched. They had realized the Draco was acting odd recently. More scary. There was no telling what he would do.

Voldemort decided it was time someone would have to pay for the past few days, and this bit of news was too much. Crabbe and Goyle would regret disobeying him. "Follow me."

They didn't dare disobey him. They left the Great Hall and headed down the stairs to the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was located. Crabbe and Goyle followed silently behind. When they made it to the doors, they stopped. "Password…" The door hissed.

"I don't remember the password…"muttered Crabbe.

"Silence," Voldemort ordered. He lifted his hand and placed it on one of the snakes etched into the door. "Open." He hissed back in parseltongue. The snake slid beneath his hand and the door opened.

"Draco, I didn't know you were a Parseltongue." Said Goyle, shocked.

"What did I just say?" Growled Voldemort, causing the two to fall silent yet again. He went inside and they followed behind. He didn't stop walking until they got to their dormitory and all of them were inside. Voldemort shut the door and placed both a silencing spell and a locking spell on it. Crabbe and Goyle stood in front of him nervously. Voldemort took out his own wand, but Crabbe and Goyle were too worried about being punished to notice.

"Draco, we're sorry that…" Crabbe's words were cut off because the moment he had opened his mouth Voldemort had shot a torture curse at him. The large boy fell to the floor, screaming and twitching. Goyle's eyes went wide, and he made a move to help Crabbe, but a look from Voldemort stopped this. He could only watch.

Voldemort ended the curse quickly. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as torturing Harry was. Crabbe breathed deeply on the ground, shaking from the aftereffects. "Stand," Voldemort commanded. Crabbe tried getting to his feet, but it was difficult. When Goyle yet again attempted to help, Voldemort used the Cruciatus curse on him. He held Goyle under the curse for a bit longer for disobeying him twice. When it stopped, both boys got to their feet and stood there shakily, staring at him fearfully. They didn't dare say a word. Voldemort placed his wand back in his robes, his red eyes still on the two. "If you disobey me again you two will be punished much more severely than that. The Dark Lord does not mess around where Harry Potter is concerned. If we don't succeed in getting him what he wants, it will be the death of us, understand?"

The two boys nodded hurriedly, not wanting to make him angry again. "You must follow my every order. Before now it was optional, but not any longer. Snape was not to be told of the plan. The Dark Lord didn't want him to know. Now he will be watching us. It will make things more difficult." He undid the spells on the door. "Which reminds me of another thing. If you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about what happened here, you will be punished in the worst way possible." He allowed the threat to sink in. "Now go back to dinner and say not a word." Crabbe and Goyle did as they were instructed and left, still shaking slightly. Voldemort shut the door behind him with a sigh. Young Death Eaters could be so unreliable.

He just needed to relax. Today had been stressful. A shower would do nicely. And anyway, he had to wash the blue out of his hair with the potion Dumbledore had given him. He walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. After a quick look in the mirror to assess the damage, he stripped and stepped in the shower. He turned the knob till the water was blistering hot and let it wash over him. It felt so nice. For ten minutes he just stood there under the hot water that was turning his skin red. But he didn't mind. He felt more relaxed than ever. When he took showers in the morning they were quick and hurried because of classes, but now…now was perfect.

When the water started to get cold, Voldemort took the potion Dumbledore had given him and scrubbed it into his hair. Severus had been able to fix it but he had refused because he didn't like Draco's new behavior. It really was childish. Voldemort was happy to see the water going down the drain was blue. His hair should be back to normal by now. That Parkinson girl would pay for making him go through all this trouble.

Voldemort stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. A quick peek in the mirror revealed that his hair had indeed returned back to its blond color although it did have a slightly blue tint. It would have to do.

He walked out of the bathroom and over to his trunk. He placed his dirty robes in a pile next to his bed for the House Elves to take. With a new set of robes on, Voldemort fell back on his bed and just lay there. Merlin was he tried. The events of the day rushed at him and hit him in the face, leaving him exhausted. Sending dreams to Harry would be pointless since the boy wasn't asleep yet. This irked him. He had promised Harry that he would send dreams. If he didn't the boy would stop fearing him.

An idea struck him. He would make the boy fall asleep. It was easy to locate the boy. He was in the Gryffindor common room, sitting in a chair by the fire, tears running down his face. Voldemort slipped into the boy's mind again. _"Why are you sad, Harry?"_

Harry shivered. "You-you're going to torture me…"

Voldemort laughed. "_Yes…but you should accept that Harry. Crying isn't going to stop me. You are just making yourself look weak."_

"Shut up…" Harry burrowed deeper into the chair. "I'm not weak."

"_But you are, Harry. So very weak. That is why you can't push me out of your mind."_ He made Harry's scar burn. _"That is why you can't stop the pain."_

Harry didn't show any sign that he was in pain. Again there was that stubbornness. "Can't you just leave me alone for one night?" There was a plea in his voice.

"_And why would I do that?"_ Voldemort increased the pain and smiled when Harry gasped in pain.

"We could make a deal." Voldemort stopped the pain. He was interested in what the boy had to say. _"You have my attention. What sort of deal?" _

Harry didn't answer right away. A single tear ran down his face. "If you don't torture me tonight or tomorrow night, you…" He stopped and buried even deeper into the chair. When he next spoke, his voice was tiny, barely a sound. "You can torture me all day Sunday…"

Voldemort couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face_. "Give up two nights of torture for a whole day of making you scream and beg me for mercy? Deal."_ With that he slipped out of the boy's mind before Harry could change his mind. That had gone better then intended. Sure he didn't get to torture the boy tonight, but on Sunday…it would be wonderful. While he was visiting his Death Eaters he could torture the boy in his mind. Though he did wonder why the boy had agreed to something like that. Surely two nights was better than a whole day? Voldemort didn't think on it too long. He was overjoyed. That night as he slept he dreamed of ways to torture Harry, and had one of the best sleeps he had ever had…

Friday was a blur. Voldemort barely paid attention to any of his classes. Only in potions class did he focus in on the world because Harry needed help with his potion. But the rest of the day was spent going over the previous day in his head from potions class to the meeting with Dumbledore to the deal with Harry. And while he was in potions class he couldn't help but glance at Harry and imagine him under the Cruciatus curse for hours on end, withering and shrieking, his back arching and Voldemort slamming it back down so Harry was forced to endure the whole of the pain. When he had been daydreaming he had pulled out his wand and was about to say the words before he regained himself and continued to slice newt eyes into quarters, not looking at Harry for the rest of the class. He was happy when the day was over. Tomorrow was his and Harry's tutoring session. There he could prod the boy for information and maybe, just maybe, gain a bit more trust.

On Saturday morning Voldemort woke at 7:30, quickly got ready, packed all the stuff he would need for teaching Harry potions, and headed up to the Gryffindor common room. He made it there at precisely 8:00, like they had arranged, and waited for Harry to come out a let him in because a portrait of a rather large woman was glaring at him as if daring him to ask if he could come in. Voldemort leaned against the wall and waited… and waited….and waited. He was starting to get really ticked off. Then at 8:30, the portrait swung open to reveal a very tired looking Harry Potter who's hair was stuck up and more messier than usual. "Hey, Malfoy." He mumbled, running at hand through his hair and staring at Voldemort blearily. "Look, you fixed your hair. And your eyes. Good, cause you were looking a bit too much like V-Voldemort."

Voldemort glared at him. "You are thirty minutes late, Potter? Care to explain?"

Harry glanced down at his watch. "It was an accident. I actually got some sleep last night, and I guess I wasn't used to it and slept in. So, you going to come in or what?" He held open the portrait.

The Fat Lady spoke up. "Mr. Malfoy cannot come in! He is in Slytherin and he is not allowed in the Gryffindor common room. School rules! He tries to walk through this door and I slam shut on his arm!"

Harry poked his head around the door and looked at here. "Come on, Agatha. Malfoy is just going to tutor me so I don't fail potions. He's not going to cause any trouble."

"I don't know…"

"Did I mention how pretty you look in that new dress?" Harry added. "The white really makes your eyes more pronounced. You look lovely." Harry laced his words with sweetness, much like Voldemort himself had in his teenage years. Voldemort was mildly impressed.

The Fat Lady giggled like a little school girl. "Well, I suppose it's okay then. But if anyone asks, I had nothing to do with it." Harry thanked her and walked back through the portrait hole, motioning for Voldemort to follow. Voldemort stepped in hesitantly, worried that the portrait would keep up her threat. She didn't, and Voldemort was able to continue through the hole. He grabbed Harry's arm and stopped him before he stepped into the common room. "Won't your fellow Gryffindor's have a problem with me being here?" He didn't want to be attacked by angry teenagers.

Harry shrugged. "Does it matter?" Voldemort could tell the boy was still tired. One night of good sleep wasn't going to cure weeks of nightmares. Harry continued and stepped into the room. A few students greeted him. There was a chatter around the room, and Voldemort was surprised it could be caused by this small amount of people. He observed the room. It was way too bright for his liking. Everything was either some type of red or some type of yellow. Although it was a lot more comfortable looking than the Slytherin one. Harry took a seat at a table that ran along one wall and looked back at Voldemort, again motioning for him to follow. Voldemort decided that he was being ridiculous and stepped into the room. The room went silent. Everyone was staring at him and quite a few mouths hung open. Voldemort ignored them and walked over to Harry where he took a seat and placed his bag on the table. One Gryffindor stood up and was coming towards Voldemort, but Harry sighed and turned in his seat to face the fast approaching student. "Don't, Seamus. I told Draco to come here."

The small boy looked confused. "But, Harry, why'd you do that?"

"Draco's here to tutor me in potions." He said this loudly for the whole common room to hear. "As soon as we are done, he will leave. He's not going to sabotage us or anything like that. If you don't like that, you can leave. It's time for breakfast anyway." Looking a little angry, the Gryffindors left through the portrait hole to go to breakfast, not wanting to be in the same room as a Slytherin.

"Now that they're gone…" Voldemort reached into his bag and took out a shrunken down cauldron, a potion's book, a kit full of ingredients, and some parchment. He spread these out on the table and unshrunk the cauldron. He tap Draco's wand and a little fire lit up under the cauldron. With a flick the cauldron was filled with water. He placed a stack of parchment in front of Harry and ordered him to take out a quill and some ink. He opened the book to a page he had dog-eared. He had been thinking on what potion to teach Harry. The only one he had thought appropriate for their first tutoring session, and that he thought would be right for Harry, was Blood-Replenishing potion. Tomorrow the boy would need it after their torture session.

Voldemort handed to book to Harry, who took it hesitantly and looked down at the page he had marked. "Blood-Replenishing potion?" He asked, giving Voldemort a look. "Why this one?"

Voldemort shrugged, like he didn't have a reason. "It could be useful. And it's not overly complicated, but it would impress most Potions' Professors." Harry shot him another glance; however, he didn't say another word and just placed the book down where he could see it and grabbed the ingredients to get started. Voldemort slapped his hand like a disobedient child.

"Are you an idiot, Potter?" He berated while taking the ingredients from Harry. "The water hasn't gotten to the right temperature yet and you barely glanced at the instructions. Do you expect to just throw random ingredients in and hope it would work?"

Harry scowled at him. "I'm tried, alright? Last night was the only decent sleep I've had in months. If I didn't need help badly I wouldn't have asked you to tutor me. But if you're just going to say everything thing I do is wrong and call me an idiot, Malfoy, you can leave. I'll find someone else."

Voldemort sighed and pushed the ingredients back towards Harry. He didn't want Harry to leave. That would mess with his plan. No, Harry had to stay, and if he had to be a bit nicer to the boy to do this…well, he could at least try. "The water is fine now. I made some marks in the book that give you steps that are faster and easier than the regular ones. Just follow those, and I'll correct you when you're wrong and show you a few things that can make potion making less time consuming. And, if you do well enough and I deem your potion acceptable, you may keep it."

"Why would I need Blood-Replenishing potion?" Harry asked, grabbing the ingredients that would be needed in the first step.

Voldemort smirked. "You never know."

So, with Voldemort's go ahead, Harry started on the first step. He was only halfway through when Voldemort found fault with what Harry was doing. "Two pinches of crushed lizard skull. Two! Can't you read, Potter?"

"Well, I do have glasses." Harry mumbled.

"That's no excuse!" And after Harry yet again messed up on the second step, Voldemort knew they were going to be there for a while.

It was 10:30 by the time Voldemort finally said that Harry's potion was decent. There had been a lot of yelling at each throughout the whole making of the potion, but now that they were done, Harry was smiling, happy at what he had done. Personally, Voldemort was dead tired, but said nothing. Harry now seemed wide awake. Voldemort took a bit of the potion and put it in a larger than necessary vial and handed it to the boy. Harry's eyes lit up when he peered through the clear glass and at the blood red potion inside. "I actually made a potion that didn't explode. I bet this would make Snape furious."

Voldemort decided not to mention that if it wasn't for him, Harry would have blown up the whole Gryffindor common room. It was good that Harry felt some pride in himself. Harry turned to him, his eyes searching Voldemort's. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"No problem, Potter." He gathered up his supplies and put them back in his bag. "Do you want me to continue you to tutor you?"

Harry seemed to consider Voldemort for a moment. "Yeah, that could work. But don't say anything about this outside of the tutoring sessions. I still hate your guts."

"My lips are sealed." He lifted the bag and put it on his shoulder. "And I still hate you too, Potter. If Snape asks, I had nothing to do with your sudden increase in potion's skills, understand?"

"Of course," Harry placed the vial in his pocket. "Can we do this again on Wednesday?"

Voldemort smirked. "Sure, Potter. Wednesday is fine." He gave a nod goodbye and was about to leave when there was a set of hurried footsteps and Ron came in the common room. His eyes locked on Voldemort and he sauntered forward, his hands in fists. "Malfoy, what the hell are you doing here?"

Voldemort took and step back, his hand in his pocket, tightening around his wand. If that red head tried anything Voldemort would jinx him into oblivion. "I was just helping out Potter here. I was just about to leave, so don't mind me."

Ron's face was angry, and his eyes were glaring. "You stay away from Harry, you jackass! He's my friend, not yours. I swear if you even think about handing him over to the Dark Lord I will track you down and kill your little ferret arse." Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, but Ron brushed it off.

"Ron, you're being ridiculous! Malfoy was just helping me!" Not matter how much he tried, Harry could not control his pissed off friend.

"Don't you see what he's doing, Harry? He's trying to get on your good side so you'll trust him and he can take you to the Dark Lord so you'll be tortured for the rest of your life." Ron hit his fist against his palm. "I'm just going to stop him before he can." Voldemort was slightly shocked at how much the ginger had figured out already. He continued backing up and soon his was at the entrance to the portrait hole. In a flash he pulled out his wand, said a quick spell, and exited as Ron was knocked on his butt. He pushed open the door and stepped out, walking away quickly. He heard yelling behind him.

"I thought you weren't going to cause problems!" The Fat Lady yelled at his receding back. Voldemort rolled his eyes and continued walking. Maybe he would hit the library. Maybe he could find a book he hadn't read.

"Malfoy, wait!" Voldemort turned and was hit smack dab in the chest by Harry, who had been running down the hall after him. They both crashed to the ground, causing both of their bags to spill their contents onto the floor. They quickly got up and picked up their things. While Voldemort was reaching for a bottle of ink that had rolled away, he noticed a letter. For some reason he knew it was a reply from the letter Harry had sent. It was already open, so that meant Harry had already read it. While Harry was picking up scattered bits of spare parchment, Voldemort causally slid it into his bag. Harry didn't notice.

It took them a good five minutes to collect all their belongings and shove them into their bags. The both got to their feet and Voldemort was ready to walk away again. He was anxious to read the letter. "Malfoy, stop." Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. "I just wanted to say sorry. Ron was acting like a prick. He was way out of line." Voldemort growled. He didn't have time for this. He sent a horrible stab of pain through the boy's skull and Harry collapsed on the floor, out cold. He knew he had probably gone too far, but at the moment it didn't matter.

He needed to read the letter.

So Voldemort left Harry in the hallway and walked on till he came to the nearest empty classroom. He shut the door behind him and sunk to the floor, pulling the letter from his bag. The writing on the front was neat, and easily legible. It said Harry. He nearly ripped the letter out of the envelope and shook it open. Then he read.

_Dear Harry,_

_Am I correct that you are the Harry Potter? If so, then I was wondering why you were writing to my brother, Sirius, who I'm sure you know died not too long ago. Am I right to guess that you knew my brother personally? It does make sense, I suppose. Sirius was great friends with James Potter. If you did, I wouldn't mind meeting up with you. I was heartbroken when I learned he had been killed. The last time I saw him was when he was sixteen and left to stay at James Potter's house. I never knew him after that. I would like to know more about him and your connection to him. And please, Harry, do not let this letter fall into the wrong hands. As you might know (or maybe you don't as I doubt Sirius mentioned me) I am supposed to be dead and I would like to keep it that way. Please, contact me soon. _

_Sincerely,_

_Regulus Black_

Voldemort grinned a grin so large it was a wonder his face didn't split apart. This was very interesting information indeed. "Regulus, Regulus, Regulus…" He laughed. "I knew you were alive…"


	10. Torturesly Beautiful

**Yay, chapter 10! Finally! Hope you enjoy it:) Now, this chapter contains some torture, so I'm just warning you ahead of time. This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous one, but I found a good place to end it. Remember, please review and let me know what you think!:)**

Voldemort sat in the Slytherin common room with an invisibility spell placed on him. It was late. Very late. And Voldemort really wanted to go to sleep. But he had to do something first. To do this he had to be patient and wait. Unfortunately, patience wasn't something Voldemort had a lot of. Especially since in just a few hours he would be torturing Harry Potter mercilessly all day. He smiled at the thought. The torture would be beautiful.

He was daydreaming of how wonderful tomorrow was going to be, when there was a crack and a house elf appeared in the common room with about ten hats teetering on top of its head and twenty pairs of socks padding the sounds of its footsteps. It was Dobby, the Malfoys' old house elf. Just the creature Voldemort wanted to see.

Dobby scanned the room and, spotting no one, began cleaning. He picked up the discarded candy wrappers and newspapers that covered the floor. Voldemort stood, still in his invisible state, and went over to the elf. Dobby didn't suspect a thing. The elf had bent down to retrieve a stray piece of homework and when he stood back up Voldemort removed the invisibility spell and wrapped his hand around Dobby's skinny arm, lifting him up and off the floor.

Dobby panicked. "Put Dobby down!" he squeaked. The elf swung wildly from side to side. Voldemort tightened his grip and muttered the Imperius curse. "Be still." He ordered. Dobby stopped moving, his eyes empty.

"Now," Voldemort said, bringing the elf up so he was staring Dobby in the face. "Tell me the truth. Did you tell Dumbledore about finding me in the kitchens on the first night?"

Dobby nodded slowly. "Dobby did."

"And what did Dumbledore say when you told him?" The Elf said nothing. The Imperius curse needed direct orders, not questions. "Tell me."

"Headmaster asked Dobby what Mr. Malfoy was doing in the Kitchens. Dobby said he did not know. Mr. Dumbledore told Dobby to watch Mr. Malfoy and tell Mr. Dumbledore what Dobby sees." Voldemort was furious. The old fool had gotten a house elf to watch him? It was very low for the Headmaster.

"Have you been following me?" Voldemort growled. Again, Dobby said nothing. "Answer me!" He gave the elf a shake, causing a few hats to fall off Dobby's head.

Again, the elf nodded. "Dobby has."

"Tell me what you have seen." If Dobby had seen half the things he'd done and told Dumbledore about them, he was done for.

"Dobby saw Mr. Malfoy go into the Gryffindor common room. Dobby saw Mr. Malfoy leave Harry Potter in the hallway when he fell." Voldemort looked away from the little elf. This was bad. If Dobby had told Dumbledore already his whole plan was over with.

"Tell me. Have you told Dumbledore what you have seen?" To Voldemort's relief, the elf shook his head. "Tell me why you haven't."

"Mr. Dumbledore has been busy. He has not had time for Dobby."

Voldemort dropped the elf who landed awkwardly on the floor. "Listen to me. You are to stop following me. You are not to tell Dumbledore or anyone about what you have seen. You are to do everything I tell you to." Dobby nodded dumbly and got to his feet. "Continue with what you were doing. And remember I was never here."

Dobby returned to picking up trash as if nothing had ever happened, a confused look on his face. Voldemort walked past him and to his dormitory. He was still mad at Dumbledore for trying to spy on him, but at least it had been taken care of. That little elf wouldn't say a word to the old fool.

He opened the door quietly so he wouldn't wake his roommates and slipped into bed. He needed to get to sleep. Tomorrow he had to visit his Death Eaters at headquarters. He knew this was probably going to drive him insane. And he also had to have a little chat with Lucius about his plan involving a certain Regulus Black. Lucius was the one who had informed him that Regulus Black was dead. But at least he had the torture session with Harry to look forward to. Surely that would make up for everything.

Voldemort chuckled. He could hardly wait…

The next morning Voldemort woke Crabbe and Goyle up early. He ordered them to tell anyone who asked where he was that he was sick and wanted to be left alone. Crabbe and Goyle didn't dare ask for a reason why nor were they right enough in the head in their sleep filled states to do so. They just nodded obediently and went back to sleep after he left. Voldemort made himself invisible and walked through the halls of Hogwarts, heading for the front doors. He had a long walk ahead of him. He couldn't risk being seen. Students weren't supposed to leave the grounds.

Lucky for Voldemort not too many people were up this early. He was able to go through the doors no problem and outside onto the grounds. He continued straight, making sure to keep on the main path and not wander into the forbidden forest. It took while but he was finally greeted by the feeling of apparition wards. He pushed through them and cut at them with magic until he finally stumbled out the other side. It was much easier to get out of Hogwarts than it was to get in. No students at Hogwarts had the amount of magical power to do what he had done. Except, now that he thought about it, maybe Harry Potter from what he'd been told. Yes…he would have to watch what magic the boy did from now on.

With one more glance back at Hogwarts to make sure he hadn't been followed, Voldemort vanished in a swirl of black mist. After nearly suffocating to death in the choking black darkness, Voldemort appeared in a small grey cell inside of headquarters. The apparition wards around the Malfoy Manor didn't stop him. He was the one who had put them there, after all.

Voldemort closed his eyes and concentrated. When he next opened them he was back in his own body and Draco was on the floor in front of him, groaning in pain. Draco's storm grey eyes looked up at him and he let out a whimper. "My…my lord…w-why…?"

Voldemort was too busy looking at his own body to listen to the boy. It felt so good to be back in his own body again, even if it was only going to be for a little while. "My lord…a-are you…going t-to…?"

The Dark Lord turned his gaze on the boy on the floor. "Yes, Draco?"

"Are y-you going to…s-stop?" Voldemort heard the plea in Draco's voice.

"Stop possessing you?" Draco nodded shakily. "No, Draco. Not until I get what I want. Not until Harry Potter is mine." Voldemort saw tears form in Draco's eyes.

"P-please, my lord…please…" Draco begged.

Voldemort held no mercy for the boy. Draco was merely a pawn to be used till Voldemort got what he wanted. "Did you not hear me, Draco? When Harry Potter is trapped down in these dungeons, that is when you will be free. The Malfoy family will be rewarded greatly. Until then you will help me get what I want. Nobody will stand in my way, Draco. Nobody will keep me from Harry Potter."

With that he walked out and closed the door. He heard Draco pounding on the door and begging to be let free. He ignored Draco and left the dungeons to head to the throne room. As he walked, Death Eaters bowed respectfully and said that they were glad he was back. He ordered one of them to find Lucius and send him to the throne room in about thirty minutes and then that he wanted his top Death Eaters there in an hour. The Death Eater nodded that they would pass on the demands.

When Voldemort arrived at the throne room, he threw open the doors and walked briskly to his wonderful throne that he hadn't sat in for a week now. When he sat down he remembered how much he liked sitting here. It was a perfect place to torture Harry.

Making sure the doors were shut, Voldemort closed his eyes and slipped into the boy's mind.

The boy was in a small room that contained a bed, a dresser, and a bedside table on which sat the blood replenishing potion they had made. Voldemort supposed that Harry didn't want to be in the Gryffindor common room when he was tortured. He didn't want his friends to know. How very noble.

Harry was sitting on the bed, shaking. He knew the pain that would come. Voldemort prided the boy on not going back on their deal. Although it was probably just that stupid Gryffindor bravery that prevented him from running away. Or maybe Harry was smart enough to know he couldn't run from his own mind. Either way, it left Voldemort free to torture the boy.

"_It's time, Harry." _he hissed. Harry nodded solemnly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the vial that Dumbledore had given him that contained the dreamless sleep potion. _"Don't, Harry." _Voldemort warned. Harry defiantly tipped his head back and poured the whole potion down his throat. He wiped his mouth and threw the glass vial on the floor before lying on the bed, a yawn escaping him. Voldemort shook his head. Dreamless sleep potion wasn't going to help Harry. The boy would be punished for disobeying him.

Harry's eyelids fluttered and finally closed. Smirking, Voldemort dove deeper into the boy's mind to start the torture session.

They were in a small room not unlike the one Voldemort had left Draco in. Harry, who had been lying on the floor, got shakily to his feet and looked around, his eyes wide with fear. Voldemort came up behind the boy and wrapped his arms around him, pinning Harry to his chest. Harry yelped and tried to escape but Voldemort only held him closer. "Let me go!" Harry demanded, fighting with all his might.

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "Now, Harry, why would I do that? I still have all day to torture you." He brushed his fingers against Harry's scar. "And you have to be punished. I told you not to drink that potion. You tried to keep me out of your mind. I've been looking forward to this for days, Harry. No mere potion is going to keep me from causing you pain. I want to break you."

"You'll never break me." Harry growled, though Voldemort could hear the terror in his voice.

"But I will." Voldemort released his grip, causing Harry to fall to the floor. Harry scooted away from him, never taking his eyes off Voldemort. Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "I'm going to make you scream, Harry. I'll make you cry, plead, beg me for mercy." He flicked his wand and Harry was thrown against the wall where he was held, his back against the stone. Then he was dropped. Harry got to his feet quickly and glared at Voldemort, who walked towards the boy. "Your blood will coat these walls and you will lie at my feet, broken so beautifully."

In a flash Voldemort was in front of Harry, pinning the boy to the wall. Harry's green eyes shook as Voldemort whispered in his ear. "You will scream for me. And I will enjoy your pain immensely."

Voldemort forced Harry to face the wall and placed a sticking charm on Harry's hands before placing them on the wall. Harry tried to remove his hands but it was no use. "What are you doing?" Harry attempted to look behind him. Voldemort took a knife from his pocket and used it to cut the boy's shirt off so the scars on Harry's back were visible. Voldemort traced these with his fingertips, making Harry shiver. He smiled at his artwork.

"I think you need some new scars, Harry, don't you agree?" He backed away, smiling as Harry struggled to move away. He moved his wand in a slashing movement and it was turned into a fiery whip. The heat was intense and Harry shook in fear as Voldemort lifted it and brought it down on Harry's pale and scared back. The whip wrapped around his chest and burned him horribly. Voldemort regaled as Harry screamed out his agony. His back arched and he fell to his knees, shrieking. Voldemort pulled the whip back and slammed it against Harry's back again. Harry's pain was beautiful and Voldemort wanted more.

He continued to whip the boy until Harry's back was coated in blood and the sticking charm wore off. Harry crumpled to the floor and curled upon himself, tears falling down his face. Burns covered his small body. Voldemort lifted his hand and Harry flew into his arms. Voldemort pushed down on Harry's burns, and smirked as Harry whimpered. "Did that hurt, Harry? Do you want me to stop?"

"You bastard…" Harry rasped. Voldemort's eyes narrowed in anger.

"You will not talk to me like that, Harry. You will learn to respect me." Voldemort dropped Harry and pointed his wand at the boy. He saw that spark of defiance in Harry's eyes and wanted to destroy it. Harry tried to crawl away from him, but Voldemort simply smiled and cast the Cruciatus Curse. Harry convulsed violently on the floor, biting his bottom lip tightly so he wouldn't make a sound. Voldemort increased the curse, wanting to hear the boy scream. Still, Harry was stubborn and even though tears were falling freely down his face, his mouth stayed shut. His body twitched violently and his arms spazed out. The terrible pain was visible on Harry's face. But it wasn't enough for Voldemort. He wanted Harry to scream. Needed Harry to scream.

He stepped closer to the boy and increased the curse even more. Harry finally relented, threw his head back, and screamed his throat raw. Voldemort held Harry under the curse until Harry could no longer make a sound. When he removed the curse, Harry lay there, breathing hard and shaking with the after effects of the torture. Voldemort crouched down to the boy's level, grinning. He was enjoying this greatly. "This is wonderful, Harry. And to think that we have all day to continue."

Voldemort reached out and pulled the boy into his lap. Harry gasped in pain from the contact. Harry again put up a weak struggle. Voldemort chuckled at his weak attempts and pulled out the knife. He pinned Harry's arms down and slowly slid the blade into the boy's stomach. Harry moaned and the most beautiful look of agony appeared on his face. Blood seeped out from where the blade was and trickled down his stomach. Voldemort twisted the blade which got him a small scream from Harry. He stroked Harry's hair lightly as he continued to stab the boy mercilessly. Harry's stunningly red blood stained Voldemort's hands and robes. Harry screamed and sobbed, which was music to Voldemort's ears.

"Your pain is marvelous, Harry." Voldemort smiled as he cut deeply into Harry's shoulder. Harry grit his teeth and tossed his head back, groaning. Voldemort was having so much fun causing Harry pain that when he heard a knock coming from the real world he was caught off guard. Next thing he knew the knife was taken out of his hand and plunged into his arm. Voldemort hissed it pain and threw the boy from him. "You stupid boy!" He yanked the blade from his arm and dropped it back in his pocket. Then he placed Harry under the Cruciatus Curse again.

The screams came forth and Voldemort soaked them in while Harry shrieked in pain. Then again there was an interruption from the outside world. "My lord? Should I come in?" He heard Lucius Malfoy ask.

Voldemort growled in annoyance and ended the curse. He picked Harry up by his throat and held the boy in front of him. Harry spat defiantly in his face. Voldemort raised his hand and landed a firm smack across Harry's face. Tears appeared in the boy's eyes along with a red hand mark on his skin. "You will pay horribly for that, Harry." He took out his wand and waved it. Shackles appeared on chains hanging down from the ceiling. Voldemort clamped down the shackles around Harry's wrist so his arms were forced above his head. "I'll be back soon, Harry." He promised, and dragged his nails down the boy's bleeding chest, making Harry shriek.

He went back to the real world and left Harry hanging from the ceiling in the imaginary room, while still keeping an eye on the boy. He gripped the armrest tightly in his hands to avoid going off on Lucius. He had ordered that Lucius come. He had stabbed Harry for a long time. It could have easily been more than thirty minutes. "Come in," Voldemort said, a bit annoyed, and the doors opened to let in Lucius Malfoy, who seemed a bit worried.

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" Lucius asked hesitantly while bowing.

Voldemort sighed. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible but he needed to concentrate he had all day to torture Harry. He could spare a few minutes of his time to deal with the current situation. He locked eyes with Lucius. "Do you remember Regulus Black?"

Lucius seemed confused. "Of course, my lord. He was a traitor. Why do you ask?"

Voldemort placed his fingertips together and surveyed the Death Eater before him. It didn't seem as through Lucius had gotten any tenser or more worried as would be expected of someone guilty. Maybe Lucius truly believed that Regulus was dead. Or maybe he was just a really good liar. "Are you aware of the fact that Regulus Black is alive?"

Lucius's eyes widened. "Regulus is alive? But that can't be. He died. I know he did."

"He didn't die, Lucius. I was just informed that he is indeed alive and well." Voldemort leaned forward a bit. "Care to tell me how this could be?"

The Death Eater before him just opened and closed his mouth, unable to say a word. Lucius quickly regained himself. "Regulus told me that he planned to betray you, my lord. He said that what he was going to do was going to be used to destroy you. He also said that if he did not return to inform me about what happened, then he was dead. Since he did not return I just assumed…"

"You assumed?" Voldemort hissed, his eyes lighting up with anger. "You assumed and let an unloyal Death Eater live unpunished for all these years!"

Lucius shrunk back. "I never saw him again, my lord, and he did not appear at any of the meanings so I just thought…Sirius Black, his brother, was also under the impression that he was dead. There were no facts to prove otherwise, my lord…"

Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at Lucius. Lucius had lied to him. He would be punished. Lucius shook his head quickly. "Please, my lord," he begged. "I was not aware he was still alive…I did not know…" Before Lucius could finish Voldemort placed him under the Cruciatus Cruse. The blond man screamed and convulsed on the floor but Voldemort felt no satisfaction from Lucius's pain. He checked in on Harry again and saw tears running down the boy's face as he shook, the chains rattling. Harry looked so weak and vulnerable. Voldemort wanted to torture the boy at this one beautiful moment. Harry looked so perfect with blood dripping off him and tears streaming from his eyes. So very tortureable.

He pulled back into the real world and ended the cruse he had placed on Lucius. Lucius got shakily into a bow. "I will punish you later for lying to me, Lucius. You will not do so again, will you?"

"No, my lord." Lucius mumbled, bowing even lower. He looked up at his master. "What do you wish to do about Regulus Black?"

"You are to gather your team and look for him again. You are to search everywhere, like you did when he first went missing. For your sake, Lucius, you better hope you find him. And if you do, I want him brought to me. No Death Eater betrays me and gets away with it."

Lucius got to his feet. "Of course, my lord. Right away. I will find him." He was turning to go, when he chanced a glance back at Voldemort. He paused. "My lord…are you bleeding?" Voldemort followed Lucius's gaze and saw that indeed he was. Harry had stabbed him and the cut was here even outside of the boy's mind. He waved his wand over it and it healed closed. Lucius was staring at him like he couldn't believe his eyes. None of his Death Eaters had ever seen him bleed before. "It is nothing, Lucius."

Voldemort waved his hand and Lucius knew he was supposed to leave. Immediately when the doors shut behind the blond Death Eater, Voldemort dove back into the boy's mind, eager to continue. He appeared in right in front of Harry with their faces inches apart. Harry let out a little yelp and struggled. Voldemort chuckled and grabbed Harry's face in his hand. He used his free hand to wipe away the tears off Harry's face. Harry's striking emerald eyes stared at him, filled with fear. "Are you scared, Harry?" He whispered, moving his hand to a cut on Harry's side and digging his nails in. Harry moaned and more tears fell. "Are you scared of this pain?"

"I'm not…scared of you…" Harry cried. Voldemort smiled, pulling the boy closer. "But you are, Harry. I can see it in your eyes. You are scared of the pain I can cause you…just say it, Harry. Just say you are scared of me…tell me I strike fear into your heart."

"Never!" Harry shouted, with that defiance that Voldemort so wanted to crush.

"Harry, Harry, Harry…" Voldemort tisked. "You have forced my hand. It's time to be a little more violent with you." Voldemort waved his hand and a long black pole appeared in his grasp. Harry's eyes went wide as saucers. "Muggles can be rather brutal when they torture people. I think it would be perfect for you, Harry. Since you aren't easy to break mentally, I think it would be much more enjoyable and much easier to break you physically. A few broken ribs, maybe. A snapped arm. A shattered leg…" He hefted the pole in his hands while Harry struggled madly. Laughing, Voldemort got into position and swung the pole and it connected with a loud crack to Harry's small chest. Harry let out a horrible scream that turned into a choked sob as Voldemort swung again, this time harder, and hit his stomach. Harry's body swung away from Voldemort, and then swung back, the chains pulling on Harry's arms and nearly causing them to be ripped out of their sockets. It was like hitting a piñata that Voldemort had seen once at the orphanage during a special party, only screams came out instead of candy. This was just too much fun.

Voldemort stopped for a second, an evil grin on his face, and allowed Harry to stop swinging back and forth. The boy coughed up blood and it stained his pale face, mixing with the tears that flowed down his cheeks. It was a beautiful sight. "Do you want me to stop, Harry? All you must do is ask."

Harry slowly shook his head. "N-no…" he managed to stutter. The grin on Voldemort's face grew. The boy's stubbornness wasn't always a bad thing. He lifted the pole again and slammed it against Harry's leg. Crack! Harry screamed as loud as he could as his leg was snapped in two. Voldemort continued doing this till Harry's arms finally did get ripped from their sockets, and he let out the loudest scream yet. His body was covered in blood, as a rib had poked through the skin. Voldemort vanished the pole and came very close to Harry, until they were barely an inch between them. He ran his hand over Harry's shaking chest and covered the hand in blood. He moved his fingers to Harry's face and ran them over Harry's face, leaving behind streaks of red. The boy shivered at his touch.

He looked on at Harry's beaten and broken body and prided himself on his work. Even though he knew Harry wasn't fully broken just yet. Harry was much too strong to break so easily. He waved his hand and the shackles holding Harry to the ceiling disappeared and he crashed to the floor, unmoving.

Voldemort pulled out his wand again and pointed it at Harry. Harry lifted his head and looked Voldemort right in the eyes. The boy's eyes were filled with pain, but mixed in with the pain was anger. Voldemort laughed again. "Are you angry, Harry? You mustn't forget that this wonderful torture session is all thanks to you. I could have tortured you for only two nights, but instead you gave me a whole day." He reached down and picked Harry up by his throat and lifted the boy clear off the floor till they were face to face. "A whole beautiful day to torture you."

He placed the tip of his wand against the boy's bare chest. He was about to say the torture curse but again there was a disturbance from the outside world. Had it been thirty minutes already? Voldemort growled in annoyance. He dropped Harry reluctantly as there was knocking on the door of his throne room. Harry looked up at him from the floor, his red blood covering his face. "Are you leaving?" he whispered, a little bit of hope in his eyes.

Voldemort looked down on the boy who looked so very weak and broken. He itched to place the boy under the Cruciatus Curse to hear his beautiful screams again. But he had his Death Eaters to attend to. Harry could wait. "Just for a few minutes, Harry. Then we can continue."

With one last longing look at the bleeding boy on the floor, Voldemort slipped back in the real world. "Enter," He ordered. Bellatrix, Lucius, Snape, Greyback, and Rodolphus Lestrange came through the doors. They bowed respectfully and walked up to him, pausing at a polite distance from his throne.

Voldemort scanned their faces to see if he could figure out what they were about to tell him. "How many raids have you preformed in my absence?" he questioned.

Bellatrix took a step forward, her eyes aglow with absolute loyalty to her master, and spoke. "Three, my lord. More than we normally accomplish in a week even with you here. Just as you ordered us, my lord." She looked up at him for confirmation that she had pleased him with this news. Rodolphus looked a little put out as he saw the desire his wife had to be with the Dark Lord. It angered him slightly. Bellatrix was his wife, after all. And even if she was crazy he still loved her, even though she never loved him in return.

Voldemort was impressed. Three raids was no easy feat. "And how many casualties?"

Bellatrix's face fell a bit. She seemed nervous, as did the rest of the Death Eaters. "Three, my lord." She hurriedly bowed low. "I am so sorry, my lord. But the Order was there to intercept us…they prevented us from causing more damage and taking more lives…I do not know how they found out…we failed to preform, my lord..." Voldemort silenced her with a Cruciatus Curse. She shrieked and shook in pain at his feet.

He spoke above the screams. "Three deaths? Three? How are the people of the Wizarding World supposed to fear us when after three raids my Death Eaters have only successfully killed three people?" His Death Eaters shrunk back slightly. "I leave you alone for a week and you fail to do what I tell you. Can I not trust my Death Eaters to follow my orders?" He ended the curse and Bellatrix got quickly into a bow on the floor, lifting her head slightly.

"My lord, you can trust us. We are forever loyal to you. We promise we will do better next time." She paused. "Are you going to go away again, my lord?"

The other Death Eaters looked up at him at this question. They were curious to know as well. "Yes, Bellatrix. I am leaving again."

"But why, my lord! Surely you want to be here, with your loyal followers!" Bellatrix clamped a hand tight over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. She had spoken out of turn.

Voldemort decided not to punish her again. It wasn't worth his time. "My business is my own, Bellatrix. I expect you all to perform at least two more raids in my next stretch of absence. I want a minimum of ten people killed. If you fail to do this, you will all be punished." He leaned back in his chair. Nagini, who he hadn't realized was on his throne, slithered into his lap, her tongue flickering in and out. He ran his hand over the Snake's scales and realized that Nagini was a bit skinner than usual. He glared at his Death Eaters. "Have any of you been feeding Nagini?"

The Death Eaters faces fell. "Well, you see, my lord, we were going to but…circumstances prevented us from doing so…we didn't mean to…" Greyback cut him off. "Shut it, Malfoy." The werewolf looked at Voldemort. "That bloody snake almost ate my hand. These cowards didn't want to go near it after that, and neither did I."

Voldemort stroked his snake slowly. "Very well then, Greyback. Since Nagini seems to like you so much, you have the responsibility of feeding her."

Greyback growled lowly in his throat. "What?" he barked.

"If you don't, then Nagini will feed on you." Greyback glared. "It is your choice."

Greyback crossed his arms, but said nothing more. _"Go to him, Nagini. If he does not feed you, you may eat him." _Voldemort hissed his Parseltongue.

"_Yes, Master." _Nagini slid from his lap and onto the floor, where she slunk over to Greyback and started to slowly wrap around his body. He struggled, but with a look from Voldemort he stopped and reluctantly allowed Nagini to get very close to his neck and flicker out her tongue to taste his skin. He flinched.

Voldemort looked at the others. "Severus, you stay here. The rest of you leave."

Snape remained while the others left out the doors and they closed shut. Severus looked up at him. Voldemort looked into the Potions master's eyes. "Has Dumbledore talk to you recently?"

Snape nodded. "He has. Just the regular conversations."

"Has he asked you anything about Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes. Since you have been sending Potter an excessive amount of dreams recently, he has become concerned and asked what would be the best course of action. I made Dumbledore some Dreamless Sleep potion to give to Potter if he needed it. I know it won't keep you out of his mind, however, Dumbledore believes it will."

"Anything else?" He could tell Snape was holding back information.

"The Malfoy boy has been acting odd lately. He has advanced dramatically in all his classes and he is spending an excessive amount of time around the Potter. Dumbledore believes that you ordered Draco to get close to Potter so Draco could kidnap him and bring him to you." Snape seemed curious as to how Voldemort would respond to this. Voldemort merely crossed his fingers and surveyed the man before him, whose loyalties he could not place.

"That is all, Severus." Snape, knowing that Voldemort wasn't going to say anything else, bowed respectfully and left through the door. Yet again, Voldemort returned to Harry's mind to find that Harry was still on the floor, breathing hard and shaking. He smirked, raised his wand, and placed Harry under the torture curse. He drank in Harry's screams and picked up the boy again by his throat to see the pain in Harry's face. He increased the cruse and Harry's eyes rolled back in his head and he began shaking madly, a small dribble of blood trickling out of the side of his mouth.

He ended it, and Harry went limp in his grip. He was bleeding heavily and his eyes were red from crying. The sight was incredible. He could hardly imagine how wonderful torturing Harry would be in the real world. He pointed his wand at Harry's heart were he knew it would hurt and opened his mouth to say one word that would make Harry scream. Except there was another interruption. Only it wasn't from Voldemort's side this time. It was from Harry's.

"What's happening?" Voldemort growled.

Harry looked scared. "Ron…Hermione…no…they're trying to wake me up."

Voldemort tightened his grip around Harry's neck. "Don't let them wake you up. You will be punished horribly if you leave this torture session now. I'm not done with you yet."

"Harry!" A voice shouted. "Harry, wake up! What's happening, Hermione? Why is he bleeding?"

"Harry…" Voldemort warned. He still had hours to torture the boy. It couldn't be over yet.

But Harry was going in and out of focus, like a ghost. He was waking up. "Why did he even come here? He said he was going to the library to finish Snape's essay. We have to tell Dumbledore. This is worse than Tuesday." Said the voice.

Voldemort pulled the boy close to him and glared into the boy's fading emerald eyes. "If you think this will get you out of the torture you are mistaken, Harry. The minute you fall asleep again I will be there and I will continue torturing you until I decide when it is over." Voldemort saw the fear in Harry's eyes and then his disappeared completely. Voldemort knew the boy had waken up.

He pulled back and looked out of the boy's eyes, which we cloudy due to the tears. The red head and the mudblood were standing over the boy, worried looks on their faces. Then Harry moved and they immediately converged on him. "Harry, are you awake? Can you hear me?" Harry only moaned in response. "We need to get him to the hospital wing. Now." Said the mudblood. Her and the other grabbed Harry and helped him to his feet. The second that Harry put pressure on his broken leg he threw up violently and his vision went black for a second. Harry's two friends lead him over to the door, with Harry trying to protest all the way, but thanks to the blood in his throat he could only make incoherent sounds and spit blood on to the floor. Then the mudblood made the mistake of placing her hand on Harry's chest to steady him. Her hand pushed down on the rib that protruded from his skin and Harry collapsed on to the floor, the pain overwhelming. His friends fell by his side, asking him what was wrong. Voldemort attacked the boy's mind with more pain, and ultimately it was too much. Harry's vision went dark and so did Voldemort's as Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went limp on the floor…

**Important:**

**Thanks for reading:) Okay, okay, so I've been thinking. I know that my updates for all my stories are a bit unregular. This is because I have more than one story to update. So, to fix this, I have decided to give my readers a choice. You may notice that all of my chapters are not too long but long enough. I can either continue to do this or I can do short chapters with more frequent updates. I'm fine either way. Please let me know what you would like.**


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